The Skin of the Gods
A 2Promises novel book 2 of 2
By
Phil Armstrong
Published by
2Promises Publishing House
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Title and Copyright Page
The Skin of the Gods
Phil Armstrong
Published by Phil Armstrong at Smashwords
Thank you for downloading this free eBook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form, with the exception of quotes used in reviews. Your support and respect for the property of this author is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. Thank you for downloading this free eBook.
Copyright 2012 Phil Armstrong. Discover other titles by Phil Armstrong at www.2promises.com
The 2 Promises Book Series consists of two books:
Book 1: 2 Promises (ISBN 978-0-557-23126-3) and
Book 2: The Skin of the Gods (ISBN 978-0-9877284-0-1)
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The Skin of the Gods
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I dedicate this book to my Wife and my Family.
"A kiss is a lovely trick, designed by nature, to stop words when speech becomes superfluous.”
Ingrid Bergman
Chapter 1: The Rose and Crown
City of York, England, 1890.
In late August Harold Armitage walked along the Shambles in the heart of the City of York. It had been a productive day and he was pleased. He allowed a smile to ease across his usually stern face. A tricky business transaction causing him concern for weeks had concluded in a more than satisfactory manner. His business dealings of late seemed to be a struggle. Finally a deal had closed in a smooth and acceptable manner. Tonight was a night to relax and have a few drinks. The day was drawing to an end with evening approaching. The sun had been strong and proud today warming the air and fusing it with the smells of the city. The summer’s air was now starting to cool as the light began to fade.
He approached the door of the Rose and Crown public house. The City of York was a thriving vibrant place situated in North Yorkshire, England. He paused before entering. Organized by local business dignitaries, tonight was an annual celebration of a fruitful year. If he were honest he would rather have stayed at home reading a good book. Many of the attendees were crass money hungry deviants. They portrayed themselves as fine upstanding gentlemen, pillars of the community. In reality they would not think twice about stealing their Grandfather’s pocket watch if they thought they could make a profit from the venture.
The raucous roar of laughter snapped his attention back to the entrance. He took a deep breath and pulled open the heavy wooden door. Pub doors always opened towards the street. He inquired once and was told it was easier to throw out drunken patrons if the door swung outwards. Harold entered the pub and was immediately recognized. It was busy with a cross section of the city’s inhabitants. A quick glance registered old, young, regulars, wealthy, poor and working girls.
“Harold! Over here, come and join us,” shouted a portly red headed man. Benjamin Crossley was a true friend. He was a little overweight sporting a shock of red hair and a full bushy beard. His face was always a fiery red accented with flushed cheeks. He had married a beautiful woman who loved him dearly. Human nature shows its traits in interesting ways. It was obvious to those who knew Carol that she was wildly, madly and deeply in love with Benjamin.
She was a fierce defender of his reputation and his public image. She was stunningly beautiful and many did not approve of their pairing. Many felt she deserved a handsome, more desirable gentleman. Why is it that people always think they know better than the individuals involved? Harold could not imagine a happier couple. Benjamin sat at the end of a long wooden table. He was tucked away to one side of the pub in a private nook area. The long table had small wooden stools, which would accommodate a group of twenty. The nook was full with loud, boisterous, happy men. Benjamin had known Harold for years; he owned a chain of butcher shops. He was well fed and exceptionally strong from carrying large sides of beef and other animal carcasses.
“You’re late. Most of us have had a skin full already.”
“I’m sorry Ben, I had a few things to attend to but I’m here now.”
“You always have to make a dramatic entrance don’t you Harry,” sniped Paul Smith. Paul always called him Harry knowing that it grated. Paul never liked Harold Armitage; he didn’t like a single thing about him. Harold was tall, slim and handsome. He dressed impeccably and was charmingly funny. He seemed to have ample means and looked ten years younger than his real age of thirty-four.
Paul hated him. Hate is a strong word that should seldom be used but Paul truly hated him. Paul was shorter, fatter, plain looking and spoke with a slight stutter. He came from a rich family but had not made his mark on the social scene like Harold. Paul had failed to impress the ladies. It was not important until he met Claire. Claire was the daughter of Judge Brown. She was perfect in every way. Men could only dream of taking her hand. Claire was besotted with Harold for many years since she first met him on her fourteenth birthday. Paul failed to make a positive impression and was constantly rebuked. Harold had a string of eligible suitors vying for his attention and he seemed to be favoring Charlotte Parker an attractive woman with straw colored hair. Harold was always polite to Claire but clearly not interested. It made Paul angry how Claire acted differently when around Harold. Why could she not see through this charade? It was obvious that he was the one for her and not Harry. Why were his feelings not reciprocated?
“Sit down and ignore him,” said Ben pulling up a small stool.
The barmaid arrived and flashed a smile broader than the group had seen all evening. She clearly liked what she saw as she took Harold’s order for a pint of ale. She headed for the bar expertly avoiding the drunken hands lunging for her as she skipped by. At that moment a man rose to make an announcement.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen please if I may,” his voice rose until the noise at the table subsided. “I will try to keep this address concise. As a group of distinguished businessmen we should give thanks for a very prosperous year.
Our businesses have grown and our investments in this community have been wise. Our alliances have helped all of our respective businesses and I ask you to raise your tankards to a good year.”
Harold looked down at an empty space where his tankard would have been. He raised his imaginary tankard high in the air cupping his hands. “A good year,” he repeated.
The men sat and the conversations resumed. Paul glared at Harold from across the table as if trying to pick a fight. Harold ignored him making Paul’s temperature rise. The bar maid arrived with a handful of drinks. She placed a pewter tankard sporting a frothy white head of foam next to Harold’s right hand. He reached for the tankard and began to drink the cool strong tasting ale. Harold preferred whiskey but he drank ale when in public. It seemed to be more acceptable in the pub. This way he would not look like he was flaunting his wealth. For all of his caution one look at his clothing and people could assess his worth.
“You’ve got some catching up to do! What was so pressing that you couldn’t join your fellow business associates on such a fine occasion as this?” Paul spewed the words like a ferret lunging for its prey. Paul hoped to draw Harry into an exchange where he could make it uncomfortable.
“Paul you wouldn’t understand and you don’t need to worry about my affairs. I’m sure you have enough to worry about in your own world?” replied Harold in a firm but assured way.
“What do you mean by that?” stammered Paul looking wounded.
To infuriate Paul, Harold turned his face away and ignored the exchange. Harold set his pewter tankard down on the wooden table harder than he had intended. The frothy ale responded to the movement. As Harold withdrew his hand his ring caught the tankards handle making the dull clanging noise of metal on metal. Harold looked at his ring to make sure it was not damaged. The ring sat on his right hand, third finger from his thumb. It was a gold band with a setting supporting an unusual dark rounded stone. The stone was consistently colored with a dark grey polished look. The yellow band had strange markings raised in the gold. The ring was unusual and was clearly crafted with the finest quality. Harold stayed with the group laughing and drinking the night away.
Harold consumed three tankards of ale, well within his normal limit for these occasions. He had eaten a meal before he left for the pub knowing that an empty stomach and alcohol was not a good combination. He felt light headed, as if he had consumed twice the amount of ale. He felt happy and mellow but his senses were dull. His normally fast brain and articulate arguments were failing him during his most recent conversation. It was late and the pub had emptied considerably when he rose to leave.
Rising quickly his head began to swirl and the dark walls seemed to blend with the stone floor. He felt his knees buckle under his own weight. Harold fell quickly back into the refuge of his comfortable wooden stool. Not wanting to appear foolish he remained seated and tried to regain his composure. Only five men from the original business group remained at the table.
Still engaged in conversation were Ben, Paul, David Stark the tailor, Gareth Pymm the carpenter and William Enright the landlord of the Rose and Crown. The front door to the pub had been locked hours earlier. This boisterous group was now the private guests of the landlord. The bar maid tried to make herself scarce as the jokes became bawdier and the ale flowed. William and Harold entered into a long debate about social justice and current politics. After several hours of discussion and friendly debate they agreed to disagree. Throughout the night men had left to return home to their families. Benjamin had waved goodbye to Harold slapping him on his back as he left quite early. William and Paul remained with Harold. Harold’s head was fuzzy and he started to see double. It was not long before the room started to spin and he felt a warm force ebbing down his spine. He passed out and fell into a foggy haze.
“Thanks Mary we can take it from here,” said William sending his loyal bar maid home for the night.
“Will he be alright?” she inquired pointing to Harold’s sprawled body. Harold was motionless with white foam leaking from the sides of his mouth.
“He’s just had too much to drink. We all have. Go on home now; Mr. Smith will make sure he gets home safe won’t you Paul?”
“Ay.” Paul nodded as they both turned to look at his remarkably sober figure perched upright on a stool. William moved quickly to unlock the front door. His walk was unsure as he staggered forward. He unlatched the door and opened it enough to allow Mary passage into the misty dark night. Her shoes made noise on the cobbled street as she scurried away.
“I’m going upstairs to bed. This never happened in my pub do you understand?” said William slurring his words slightly.
“Understood,” said Paul sliding a brown leather pouch bulging with coins across the wooden table.
“He better be alright. What did you put in his drink?”
“It’s a potion I got from a sailor. It’s made from herbs, strong herbs. When mixed with ale it makes you drowsy and forces you to tell the truth. He’ll wake up with a headache that’s all. I don’t like this man and I want to know what his intentions are. I’m going to ask him a few questions.”
William grabbed the leather purse and glared down at Paul. “Do what you need to do but go out the back door. Be sure to close it firmly and the latch will drop. Make sure you get him home safely. I’m not having any part of this if this is raised again, understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good night Mr. Smith.”
“Good night Mr. Enright.”
William turned and disappeared into a dark stairwell staggering as he left. He heaved his huge frame up the creaking stairs and disappeared from view. Paul grabbed Harold’s prostrate body and propped him against the table. He slapped his face hard with the back of his hand and smiled. Harold let out a small noise to register the stinging blow. His eyes opened with heavy lids and he struggled to keep his head from falling forward.
“I’ve been waiting a long time for this night. You’re going to tell me whatever I want to know. So let’s start. What are your intentions towards Claire?” barked Paul enjoying this immensely. Paul shook Harold violently by the shoulders, “Answer me you idiot.”
“I don’t, er, I don’t have any,” stuttered Harold.
“Then you’re not planning to marry her?”
“No, I’m not planning to,” he said barely awake.
“Which lady are you interested in?” shouted Paul.
“I don’t want to get married at this time, maybe later,” said Harold barely in control of his actions.
“You can’t marry Claire, do you understand?”
“Yes, it would be too dangerous.”
“What do you mean too dangerous?”
“Her Father’s a judge and she seems inquisitive.”
“So what’s that got to do with danger?” Paul slapped Harold again jolting him into a response.
“I can’t risk it being found. It needs to stay hidden.”
Intrigued Paul grabbed Harold by the throat and lifted his chin upwards. Their eyes met, “Tell me quickly or I swear I’ll kill you. What needs to stay hidden?”
“If she discovered the Amulet then I would have placed her in danger. Many people search for it. They’ll stop at nothing to have its powers.”
“What Amulet? What are you talking about?” Paul slapped him again to make sure he did not dose off.
Harold recoiled from the blow but managed to spit out an answer. “I have sworn to guard the precious Amulet. It’s been entrusted to my care; it’s very rare and precious. It’s a great burden.” He started to dose again.
“Wake up you moron. Why is this Amulet precious?” asked Paul intrigued.
“The Amulet has healing properties it keeps you young and in good health. It has the power to heal any ailment extending your life.”
“Do you have it with you?”
“No of course not,” Harold’s chin slumped to one side hitting his collarbone.
“How many people know of this Amulet?”
“Two.”
“Who’s the other person, tell me quickly!”
“My partner knows. He’s in London.” Harold was looking sick; the blood from his face was draining.
“I need a name damn it what’s his name?”
“The Soul Collector,” said Harold wishing he had not heard his words.
“Now you’re just rambling. You’re a stupid fool.” Harold started to drift off to sleep. “Wake up,” shouted Paul shaking him violently. “Where is this Amulet?”
“I’m not supposed to say.”
Paul drew his fist back ready to strike and stared deep into his wide eyes. “Tell me and tell me now.”
“It’s hidden,” Harold leaned forward spewing foam, ale and food from his mouth onto the floor.
“Let’s get out of here before William wakes up and gets mad at us.” Paul lifted Harold to his feet and steered him to the back exit.
It was a fifteen-minute walk to Harold’s residence. He stumbled often and needed to rest slumped on the cold cobbles. During this walk Harold unwittingly told Paul more details of the Amulet and its strange healing properties. He mentioned the pact he had formed with the Soul Collector to protect the Amulet. He explained the Amulet was an ancient relic from Egypt, which contained other mystical properties. When asked about its location Harold would only repeat, “It’s hidden.”
When asked where it was hidden? He would fight the effects of the drug knowing that he should not tell. It took all of his will power and internal strength but he knew he had to fight. As the drug wore off he continued to fight. Every fiber in his being was fighting the effects of the drug knowing he had sworn to keep this secret. When pressed he would raise his finger to his lips making a shushing noise. “It’s in a safe place.”
Earlier when the drug was potent Harold had told Paul about the special powers the Amulet possessed. He described its origins, its journey, and how his family had protected it for generations. Paul required one missing piece of information. He needed to know where the precious Amulet was hidden. Paul knew if he had the Amulet it would make him powerful and irresistible. Claire would be fawning over him. He had to have it. He had to have her. He could see a more prosperous life ahead of him. He would do anything to get Claire. The very thought of them together spurred him onwards.
Heaving under the strain Harold dragged his feet along the cobbles. He could not support his weight and relied on Paul to sustain his forward motion. He hung on as best he could with his strong arms but his legs were numb. His head swirled and he felt sick again. Paul staggered forward trying to support Harold’s body weight and his own. They managed to ascend a steep incline with a couple of stops for rest. Drawing closer to Harold’s residence the moon broke through the thick cloud cover illuminating the narrow cobbled street ahead. The shadow of a large figure loomed through the hanging mist. At his side the outline of a dog could now be seen. As the pair staggered forward the looming figure approached. The dog raised its hind end and lowered its snout. The dog’s top lip curled upwards baring its teeth and snarling at the approaching pair. The snarl was accompanied by a low menacing growl. The fur on the dog’s neck had raised and he was in a combative stance.
“Quiet Dusty, take it easy boy.” The alert Beagle heeded his Master’s command but remained vigilant. His eyes focused on the emerging shapes stumbling closer through the mist. He sensed something was not right and he was not going to be caught off guard.
“Is that you Master Harold?” Jackson was the trusted head servant of Harold Armitage. His family had served the Armitage household for four generations. Jackson rushed forward to support Harold’s weight and looked at Paul with dark piercing eyes. Dusty stood guard ready to pounce when needed.
“It was a good night; we all had way too much to drink. He fell in the pub and hit his face on the edge of a table,” said Paul convincingly.
“Thank you for bringing the Master home. We’re in your debt.”
“It was the least I could do for a dear friend.”
“You’re too kind Sir. We’ll take him to his quarters immediately. Thank you for your generosity.” Jackson supported Harold’s weight effortlessly and carried him quickly into the house. Dusty sized up Paul before turning and following Jackson into the house. Paul turned and briskly walked away shielding his face throughout the brief exchange. Paul beat a hasty retreat but could not get the thought of the powerful Amulet out of his head.
Had the truth potion worked or had it made Harry delirious? Was the Amulet the ramblings of a drugged up drunken fool? If the Amulet was hidden how could he get that power? It would certainly help him win Claire’s affections. His other answers seemed truthful so why would the Amulet story be false? Paul could not recollect his journey home. His mind was so preoccupied with the powers of the Amulet. He needed to have it at all costs.
When Jackson, Harold and Dusty entered the house all was calm and the night staff had retired. Jackson had decided to wait up for the Master and of course what Jackson did Dusty followed. Carrying him into the servant’s kitchen Jackson gently placed the Master of the house onto a wooden chair. He lit a couple of oil lamps and placed them on the table. He looked at his Master’s swollen face covered in purple bruises. His right eye was starting to close from the swelling. His left cheekbone looked scratched and bruised. He was awake but obviously drunk. This was highly unusual. The Master never got drunk and would never throw his fate onto the charity of others.
Jackson looked down to his Master’s waist. A small gold chain attached to a gleaming pocket watch was still in place. He reached for his Master’s right hand and confirmed his gold ring was still intact. Jackson exhaled heavily; he was now content that his Master had not been robbed. The facial bruises did not make sense and heightened Jackson’s suspicions. Dusty lay on the floor watching the men. In his teenage years Jackson had relied upon his large frame and fast hands. He would earn some additional income from street boxing and bare-fist fighting. The bruises on his Master’s face resembled the injuries he would receive from being hit. It made no sense how he could receive this type of facial injury on both sides of his face from a fall into a table. Swelling could be seen around both eyes, cheeks, the nose, chin and neck. Something happened here and he was not being told the truth.
Jackson decided to get the Master to bed quickly and without much fuss. He did not want to alert the live in staff to his Master’s condition. He carried him to his quarters and helped him get ready for bed. Jackson winced as his Master rubbed against an open wound he had received. It was an accident earlier that day but it resulted in a small painful gash on his left forearm. The Master threw up again wrenching his stomach contents. They reeked of a foul musty odor. Jackson made sure the Master was settled and sleeping comfortably before he did the final rounds and secured the house for the night. The live in staff were settled for the night and the house returned to normal. He listened to his Master’s heavy breathing and decided to remain with him this evening. He threw a couple of large logs onto the bedroom hearth and watched the dancing yellow flames caress their new companions. He slumped into a deep armchair next to the bed and quickly realized he was shattered. It was not long before the fully dressed loyal servant was crumpled in deep sleep within the large chair.
Dusty watched the scene unfold still bright and alert. Satisfied any danger had passed he sniffed the air with his keen nose. He looked at the Master of the house breathing heavily in bed. He turned his gaze to his Master slumped and asleep in the chair. Dusty walked over to the stone fireplace and lay upon the thick woolen floor rug. Curled into a small ball, he soaked up the fire’s welcoming warmth. This was a treat. He was not normally allowed to sleep in this room. As he settled in for the night he could hear breathing and the steady rhythmic ticking of the mantelpiece clock. He could smell the fire but didn’t notice anything else unusual. His black eyelids became heavy as they started to close over his bright brown eyes. Morning would come soon enough for now it was time to sleep.
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Chapter 2: Another Nightmare
Haworth, West Yorkshire, England, Present day.
The hallway looked old with oil paintings adorned with golden frames hanging in the darkened passage. The baseboards were made of wood and were wide compared to modern standards. It’s the little details that you notice when things look odd. Above the wainscoting, the walls were covered in a material that looked like rough cloth. He could not see any power outlets, plugs or phone jacks, in any of the walls. This house was old, clearly built in a simpler age. An old-fashioned oil lamp hung from the wall.
He proceeded down the hallway. An overwhelming sense of stealth washed over him. He knew he must not disturb the remaining occupants. The sweat was running down his neck and he felt excited and hot. Every one of his senses seemed to be on edge. He felt like a powerful animal stalking its prey. As he crept through the house he started to hear a low droning noise. The faint murmur of a secretive conversation could be heard from the room at the end of the hallway. The conversation seemed lively but the men kept their voices deliberately low. You could hear two distinct voices but it was impossible to decipher meaning from the muffled sounds. The house was dark. The only light was emanating from an oil lamp hanging in the hallway. A soft light could be seen bleeding from a small room adjacent to the main reception corridor. The wooden floor creaked under foot immediately causing him to freeze and listen hard. Was he detected? Was there a break in the conversation? The soft murmurs of conversation continued in a steady pattern oblivious to the unwelcome noise. From the street outside the faint sounds of a horse drawn carriage could be heard passing over the cobbles.
A soft noise drew his attention downwards to his right hand. He gripped a large knife tightly within his clenched fist. Even in the limited light the steel of the blade shone brightly towards the handle. The tip of the blade was dark. The tip was stained with blood. It dripped steadily onto the floor making a soft patting noise as the droplets hit the hard wooden surface.
When the men stopped talking all he could hear was the thumping noise in his own chest. Some papers were rustled and the conversation resumed. He needed to get closer to hear the words. He needed to hear. A man was walking around in the small room. He could see a shadow on the wall ahead moving in relation to the light source. He inched closer to the door and withdrew quickly as he realized the man was just around the corner, the other side of the doorjamb.
The man was carrying a brass candleholder in his right hand. He placed it carefully on a table close to the door. He reached for a bound leather book from one of the library shelves. It was tightly packed between other books and he needed both hands to extract the book. The side of the man’s figure could be seen from the reflection in a small dark windowpane.
“I think I have a rare book here somewhere on Upper Egypt and what the Greeks call Lycopolis,” said the man standing in the library.
The man passed the book to his colleague. He turned his back and provided the perfect opportunity. Licking his forefinger and thumb he reached around the door. The younger man was sat at a small desk. He was distracted as he peered into the book. He strained to read the text in the dimly lit room. The older man was standing with his back to the door blocking the line of sight. He pinched the wick of the candle with his wet digits throwing the room into darkness. A small amount of light pierced the room through the uncovered window. The room remained uncomfortably dark. The man turned his head as the candle extinguished.
Within seconds he leapt forward and plunged the sharp blade deep into the back of the standing man. He grabbed the top of his victim’s shoulder with his left hand. He thrust the blade forward with pinpoint precision using his right hand. The flimsy material of a shirt offered no protection from the curved steel blade. The flesh carved easily as the knife entered his back. Warm blood seeped onto his hand as the weight of the man’s body pressed down upon the blade. He withdrew the blade quickly and the man fell instantly to the floor. He needed to deal with the other man. He needed to neutralize the last remaining threat.
He could feel the adrenaline pumping through him and he was completely committed to his task. It was as if his mind was going through a series of preprogrammed steps. Kill the other man quietly and quickly. He needed to be efficient. He stepped forward faster than he thought he could and hovered over the darkened figure. Still in shock and acting confused the younger man cowered. He flinched to his left to avoid the blow. The library was a small wood paneled room that doubled as a study. Books were housed neatly on shelves and piled methodically on the wooden floor. A woolen throw rug provided a base for an elaborately carved wooden desk. A smaller table sat to its side. The walls were adorned with five carved animal heads made from wood. These ornaments were hand crafted and of high quality. Each animal head separated a set of wall cabinets that housed several shelves of books. The carvings added some interest to a section of paneling that otherwise would have been quite plain. The room had a small fireplace that was not being used. The library had one small window and used the same narrow door to enter and exit.
The younger man seemed rooted to his chair acting confused and disoriented. He seemed partially paralyzed moving slowly. A downward blow was prepared to render the young man lifeless. He was trapped in an unfortunate position. At that angle the blow would inflict serious damage. He raised the blade to enter at the top of the man’s neck. He felt powerful with his eyes trained on the target area. The room seemed darker with the young man frozen in a state of panic. The blade was raised and ready to strike. The man turned his fear stricken face upwards as tears welled in his wide eyes. A strong force prevented him from delivering the fatal blow. A violent force gathered around his forearm. He suddenly felt searing pain. He could not say where the pain was coming from but it was enough to snap him back to reality.
“Matt. Matt wake up!” shouted Beth violently shaking her fiancée. Beth continued to shake his shoulders but this was a bad one. Matt was covered in sweat his hair tangled. He was lashing out with his arms, clearly upset. “Wake up Matt. Please wake up; it’s just a dream. Matt it’s just a dream.”
Matt sat upright in a movement resembling a spasm. He disconnected from his nightmare. “Jesus Beth what the hell’s going on?” Matt was scared, disoriented and confused. Beth reached for the light switch and glanced at the alarm clock. The digital readout announced it was only 3.30am on a Saturday morning.
“Another nightmare,” moaned Beth. “What are we going to do with you Matt? We can’t seem to make it through the night these days.”
“I’m sorry love that was a bad one,” said Matt rubbing the sweat from his face. Matt could still feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention.
Beth held his hands and stroked them in a calming way. Matt had rough hands with hard patches of skin and calluses. He had working mans hands, rough and honest. “It can’t go on like this, you have to see someone. At least talk it out with someone. I don’t know if I can go on much further like this?” Beth walked into the bathroom and soaked a facecloth with cold water. She wrung the excess water into the sink before returning to bed and handing it to Matt. “What was it this time or dare I ask?”
Matt flashed a look to indicate his reluctance to go into detail. “The same dream as before with the knife. It’s so vivid Beth. It’s like being in a horror movie but you’re right there. It’s graphic and I’m pretty sure it’s me doing the killing.” Matt rubbed the cold damp facecloth across his brow and down the front of his neck.
“It’s getting worse isn’t it?” said Beth finally looking at Matt.
Matt stared at the foot of the bed and had to admit that it was, “Yes. I’m dreading going to sleep these days. It’s frustrating, I don’t know what’s causing this.”
“Once in a while we all get bad dreams. Yours started with one or two a month, now you’re doing this every night. You’ve got to get this sorted Matt for your sake. You look like hell with those bags under your eyes. I’m starting to fear for my safety too. What if you’re asleep and you turn on me without knowing what you’re doing?”
“Don’t even go there,” said Matt unable to comprehend the thought.
“Well I’m terrified. You hear about these things on the news all the time.”
“Okay. I’ll go see someone first thing in the morning.”
Beth leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. “Thanks we’re going to get through this together I promise. You just need to talk it out. In the meantime I’ll hide the kitchen knives,” said Beth with a mischievous grin trying to lighten the mood. Matt threw the sheets to one side and stepped into his jeans pulling them up and snapping the belt tight. He continued to get dressed with some urgency.
“What are you doing?” asked Beth confused. “It was only a joke.”
“I think it’s best if I just go home tonight. I have to.”
“Hey look I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.” Beth pulled a face and pouted her lips.
“You haven’t but I know I’ll sleep easier tonight knowing that I won’t do anything I’ll regret. You can relax too. I’ll call you in the morning we’ll grab breakfast at Benny’s, 9am usual time.”
“Matt, don’t beat your self up. Remember no matter how real these dreams seem they’re just dreams. It’s not real it’s just fantasy.”
“I know but the strong feelings that follow seem almost familiar. I feel so guilty for doing those things.” He pulled his sweater over his head and flattened his hair with his hand.
“That’s the point. You didn’t do those things. Okay here’s one for you. I’m sick of following my dreams. I’m just going to ask them where they’re going and hook up with them later.” Beth smiled knowing she had stumped him.
“Hemmingway?”
“Not even close: Mitch Hedberg. Okay, I want you to drive carefully on the way home. Don’t speed and don’t fall asleep at the wheel,” said Beth smiling at Matt.
“I thought you were supposed to tell me what you do want not what you don’t want?”
Beth pulled a face and snuggled under the blankets. Her head protruded from the top of the duvet and her auburn hair looked slightly messed. She looked gorgeous with her clear skin and sparkling green eyes. He was lucky to find her and now this threatened to blow them apart. He knew he had to be careful. He did not want this to come between them. She was already concerned about her safety. He better arrange to see someone quick and get this fixed. Matt forced a smile. “I’m sorry; I’ll get this sorted first thing tomorrow.”
“Okay lover boy,” said Beth yawning, “now get the hell out and let me sleep.” Her eyes sparkled when she teased him.
“Matt smiled as he turned the lights out and descended the narrow stairs of her cottage. He grabbed his coat and checked to see if his car keys and mobile phone were still in the jacket pocket. He looked around the small cottage; it was old but comfortable. This was Beth’s place and he felt at home here. His flat felt sterile and was just a place to doss down. This felt like a home. The cottage was bought for Beth by a kind old man. She had helped him in his later years. The famous Haworth Main Street was a two-minute walk from the cottage’s front door. The village of Haworth was nestled on the edge of the Yorkshire Moors cocooned in a Victorian time warp. Haworth had not changed in the last three hundred years or so it seemed.
Matt pulled at the zipper of his coat closing the clasp as far as he could. It would be chilly outside and he would have preferred the warmth of her bed. He opened the cottage door, turned and firmly closed it behind him. It was an old door and needed an extra push to engage the latch. He tried to open it again to make sure it was locked. Satisfied he turned and headed towards his car. His old blue Toyota was parked outside, wet from the misty fog. Matt ran to the car and quickly entered sheltering his body from the biting wind. Beth lay in bed listening for the distinctive sound that accompanied the ignition of Matt’s car. There it was, like a cat dragging a tin can. She smiled and pulled the duvet closer, tucking it under her chin. Matt clicked the seatbelt into position and placed the gearshift into first. Slowly raising his clutch, he was on his way home to the village of Oakworth. Matt had moved to Oakworth recently from Cullingworth. The fact that it was closer to Beth was a bonus. Driving through the narrow roads he recalled how he met Beth.
He had told her that he was taking a short vacation in Europe and was visiting Brussels, Belgium.
Matt was walking to a corner of the Grand Place when a beautiful young woman seemed to slip on a metal stud. Shaped like a shell and made from brass, the stud was embedded within a cobblestone. Shiny and worn from the relentless foot traffic, the stud became polished and slick. As Beth slipped to the ground she seemed to glow under the fading light of day. Matt was the first person to extend a helping hand. He was the only person near to Beth. He saw the whole sequence of events. That was the moment he first met Beth. He was awkward but she was smooth and in control. She invited him to dinner and they talked all night. He remembered how intelligent she was. She had a witty comeback for everything he said. She ate more than he did that night!
“God she’s beautiful, that’s the part that surprised me,” thought Matt, concentrating on the narrowing road. The road was dark as he reached the valley bottom. This part of the journey had no road lamps. The car headlights provided little illumination as the fog settled on the low-lying land. His next challenge was a steep ascent. His car held out and it was not long before he was sitting in his flat thinking about his nightmares. Matt grabbed a clean coffee mug and opened the fridge door. He poured cold water from a container into the mug and walked into his small living room. He sat on his couch and sipped the water.
“I’ve never been a violent person and I don’t play video games. I haven’t seen a horror movie in months and yet my dreams? I’m some kind of knife wielding murdering fiend. I know how I felt. I wanted to kill those men so badly. Something or someone drove me. I know it was a dream but God it felt real. I’d better get help.” Matt sipped the cool water and his thoughts turned to Beth warmly snuggled in her cottage bed. “I should be with her right now but I just don’t trust myself. What’s happening to me?”
It was a little over three months since Matt first lifted Beth off the cobbles in Brussels. He knew right away that he liked this girl. He more than liked her and that was dangerous. After three months he welcomed her back from a business trip with a bedroom full of roses, a large tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream and warm bath drawn. He had used her favorite coconut foaming bath oil. He smiled as he remembered her getting home from the airport. She hopped into the bath and soaked. Once clean she wrapped herself in her flannel pajamas and joined Matt in the bedroom. She was surprised to see the tub of ice cream but did not complain. Matt had visited the local Indian market and found a great statue of Lord Ganesha, the elephant headed Indian deity. He was the remover of all obstacles and his help was needed tonight.
As she scooped the ice cream from the tub she noticed the flowers, white roses of course. She saw the Lord Ganesha statue sitting on her dresser but something else caught her eye. He was holding a small blue satin box. She turned to look at Matt quickly with that uncertain gaze in her eyes. Matt dropped to his knees and told her to open the box. Inside the box was a gold ring with a single solitaire diamond. On the inside of the gold band a message was inscribed, “For my sly little fox.”
When he asked her to marry him his insides were churning. He had never felt so nervous and he needed her to trust him. She burst out laughing and hugged him. She kept saying, “Yes.” It was fast but he had managed it perfectly.
She told him of her life before meeting the old man at the allotment. She described getting her fox tattoo and being struck by lightening. She told Matt of her incredible adventure traveling to India, Canada and Belgium. She described Rose and Sanjeev. She talked about Niagara Falls and the Japanese-Canadian Kaigara. Finally she told him about Sakura, Subra and Toshie. It was an incredible story.
His brain was scrambled and he was clearly tired. He did not relish the thought of letting his mind wander into the dream state. He feared what might enter into his head next. He knew he had no control over his thoughts and this made him uncomfortable. Some people wake and can never remember their dreams. He felt envious of those people now. Matt was an athletic young man but recently he had been so tired, almost lethargic. When he met Beth he had never felt so energized. Their relationship was progressing but his energy levels dropped noticeably after a couple of months. He thought it might be related to school and exams but he knew that was not the cause. Despite Beth being in his life he had not changed much and neither had his long-term mission. He still ran, played soccer and ate in a balanced, moderate way. His weight seemed stable but he always seemed to have a stiff neck. He lifted his hand and rubbed the back of his tight neck, in a circular massaging motion. “You can do this just stick with the plan.” His gold chain slid over his fingers as he rubbed his neck. Matt wore an unusual necklace.
Matt liked his Grandmother; she was a kind and knowledgeable woman. When he felt bad or had arguments with his parents he would usually visit his Grandmother. Her name was Iris; a flower she often mentioned was not her favorite. In her younger years suitors would try to be cute and buy her Iris flowers. She would smile politely. She really did not like this flower. She preferred roses. Iris would listen to Matt and always gave him good advice. He was shy around the ladies and Iris knew exactly what to say. She had a wicked sense of humor and they just clicked. She would call Matt, “A chip off the old block.” It was years later that he realized that she meant he was just like her.
Iris died suddenly in her sleep from heart failure. Matt was shocked and struggled to comprehend her death. The funeral was a dreary affair held in the rain. He had lasting memories of people crying. Long speeches and stale sandwiches were his dominant memories from that day. He realized something later in his life. She had always asked him about his day, his life, his dreams, his friends and his relationship with his parents. How he had loved to talk about himself and how she seemed to love to listen. Occasionally interrupting to give well thought out advice. He really liked her. In his early twenties in a moment of reflection he realized how little he knew of her life. He had never taken the time to ask. She had been a nurse close to the front lines with the troops. She had an aversion to conflict and encouraged Matt to talk out his differences. “Violence only leads to violence,” she would often say.
Matt was still young when she died. Matt had lied to Beth. He told her his necklace was a gift from his Nana. It was not that far from the truth. He was restricted in his involvement in her funeral. He remembered one day his mother coming into his room and talking gently to him. “Matt, I know you liked your Nana. Here’s something to remember her by.” She opened her palm and a small pendant was revealed. It was not anything special; it was actually a little dull. It was a gold coin pendant that he had seen her wear. It was nothing like the crystal pendant hanging around his neck. The discolored crystal was a dull yellow cloudy color clasped by golden sea serpents. It was not attractive or cool in any way. In contrast his coin pendant was highly polished.
“Wear it for good luck. We can go down to the market tomorrow and I’ll buy you a new gold chain. How’s that sound?”
Matt appreciated the kind gesture from his Mother. The two had fun that day and they cheered each other up. They shopped and stopped for lunch to talk. They really connected that day and both missed Iris a lot. He wore the gold coin pendant with pride. It sparked fond memories. Since then the crystal pendant had replaced the coin pendant. Beth hated it. She harped on at Matt a few times to get rid of it. It did not fit his image. When Matt lied to Beth about its sentimental value she never mentioned it again. She never liked it but at least she understood. Matt was procrastinating for fear of another bad dream. He had to sleep. He was so tired. Sitting in the dark he stretched out his feet, placed the empty mug on a side table and fell asleep instantly while perched awkwardly on the couch
* * * * *
Chapter 3: Breakfast at Benny’s
Haworth, West Yorkshire, England, Present day.
It was 8.50am and Benny’s breakfast place was half full. Benny opened his diner in 1980 and still worked in the kitchen today. He would say it was half empty. Most Saturday morning’s Matt and Beth would meet for breakfast at Benny’s. They always took the same booth near the Cadillac poster at 9am sharp. The diner looked a little out of place trying to imitate a fifties diner from the USA. It had red leather seats and a lot of shiny metal. The walls were covered in old 45-RPM vinyl records and pictures of the usual icons from the 50’s and 60’s. A large jukebox stood alone and quiet in one corner. It splashed a rainbow of colors and Beth liked to follow the air bubbles racing around the frame providing movement. The American tourists loved this place. It was a little taste of home during their travels. Matt had been coming to Benny’s for years.
When they started to date Matt introduced Beth to his Benny’s ritual. When Beth traveled Matt would still go to Benny’s alone. It was as if his shoes walked here under their own steam. Matt was not a morning person. He always joked that he got up at 7am but did not actually wake up until 10am. He was uncoordinated and groggy until he got his head together. He acted as if he were on autopilot. Lately he seemed really out of it. Beth had noticed his energy levels drop and he started to look a little anemic. He seemed to be mentally disengaged and a bit spacey. This was not just a morning thing; it was starting to be like this throughout the day. This was very uncharacteristic of Matt. Beth chalked it up to his nightmares and a lack of steady sleep. She glanced at her mobile phone again; 8.54am was the message. She stared down at her empty place setting and shook her head from side to side. The diner was still quiet and Matt’s absence was starting to get noticed.
“So where’s pretty boy, he’s almost late?” teased Cheryl the waitress chewing her gum as she spoke. Cheryl was a pleasant soul who knew Beth from the diner and Matt from her school days. She was one of those clueless girls when it came to style and fashion sense. She looked a little out of place in her US styled candy striped waitress uniform. It was tight fitting and short but she had no choice if she wanted this job. The uniform stopped high on her thighs revealing shapely toned legs. Cheryl was a beautiful girl with classic features, long brown shiny hair, deep hazel eyes and a killer mouth. She never went to the gym. She avoided boring repetitive physical exercise yet still had a body most women would kill for. Waiting tables means miles of walking every day. This was a sure way to keep fit, burn calories and get paid for it. Some women were intimidated by Cheryl and did not appreciate the looks she solicited from their partners. At breakfast when you might not be at your best you want the warm-hearted girl next-door type serving your pancakes. Cheryl was far from homely she was a stunner. She had a great sense of humor and the locals loved her. For some reason these feelings were not shared by Beth. Beth always seemed to get a frosty reception from Cheryl but that changed when Matt was around. Beth suspected that Cheryl had a thing for Matt. She had seen them flirt with each other. A woman is pretty sensitive to these things.
“Men, you can’t live with them and you can’t eat without them,” responded Beth in jest. “He said he was going to call and he hasn’t. That’s so typical of a man. Just calling him now to find out where he is. Now that’s always the woman’s job to worry,” said Beth waving her mobile in the air and throwing her comments Cheryl’s way. Beth placed her mobile phone to her ear. Waiting for the connection she glanced upwards at the picture of Marilyn Monroe hanging on the diner wall. “Marilyn Monroe, she was the one who said, I’ve been on a calendar, but never on time.” She could hear the distinctive ringing noise of Matt’s mobile. “Come on Matt, don’t sleep in on me.” Beth received Matt’s familiar voice mail greeting. She prepared to leave a message after the beep. “Matt, wake up. I’m at Benny’s feeling stupid and hungry. Where are you?”
Beth twirled her hair between her fingers; she could feel her anger welling up inside of her. She never liked to feel stupid and out of place. Different thoughts were bombarding her mind but one quote seemed to be on replay. “Everyone is entitled to be stupid, but some abuse the privilege.” This was Matt right now.
The morning was wasted with several phone calls followed by increasingly irritated messages. Beth went through the various stages of irritation, annoyance, really angry and then downright concerned. She had ordered breakfast and completed her meal before entering the concerned stage. Matt was pretty punctual and always phoned if he was going to be late. Beth had called Matt’s home phone and his mobile neither delivering a live response. Cheryl had poked fun at Beth and was obviously enjoying Matt’s no-show. Beth swallowed the last drop of cold coffee and reached into her jeans pocket. She grabbed some money and placed it upon the table on top of the bill. She grabbed a glass saltshaker and placed it on top of the money providing a weight. Looking at her mobile phone she shook her head and decided to leave Benny’s alone. Beth grabbed her woolen jacket and moved towards the door. She almost made it out of the diner before the sniping started.
“Have a great day love and try to keep that man of yours on a tight leash.” Cheryl was clearly enjoying sticking the sarcastic knife into what seemed a strong solid relationship.
Beth smiled as a thought flashed through her mind. “Time invested in improving ourselves cuts down on time wasted in disapproving of others.” Beth looked back at Cheryl for a brief moment, “See you later Cheryl, he’s for the high jump that’s for sure.” Beth rolled her eyes and stepped out onto the cobbled streets of Haworth. It was still cool but the rising sun was starting to burn away the overnight mist. A short walk later and Beth was reaching for her keys to enter her cottage. She picked up her phone and called Matt’s home number. After the ringing concluded his cheery voice gave instructions to leave a message after the beep. Beth slammed the receiver down harder than she had intended. The noise startled her and she recognized just how angry she was feeling. She was also concerned and a little scared.
“Matt, for god’s sake, I hope you haven’t done anything silly. He’s probably sleeping in bed oblivious to the time and the constant ringing of his phones.” Beth continued to talk herself into a calmer state. She paced the small living room in her cottage and devised a plan. “I’m going over there.” Beth recalled her experience one month ago. Matt had seemed nervous over dinner. He presented Beth with the keys to his flat. This was a symbolic gesture to indicate a strengthening of their relationship status. Now he disappears. Beth’s kitchen had old wooden cabinets. They looked in character with the cottage and she liked the worn look. Behind the door of a corner cabinet was a row of brass hooks. She had taken Matt’s flat keys and placed them on the middle hook.
Beth reached for the keys and grabbed her black leather jacket and leather gloves. As she felt the leather she smiled to herself, “People are more opposed to fur than leather because it’s safer to harass rich women than motorcycle gangs.” She walked towards the door and exited to the back patio of her small cottage. Stored under a black tarp weighted to the ground with large stones was a powerful motorcycle. Beth removed the tarp revealing an old Triumph motorcycle. It was a beautifully restored bike and not the type you would normally expect a lady to be riding. Beth loved the look, the feel and the reaction she got when she rode it. Slipping into her gloves, she placed her black helmet on and straddled the bike, turning the key to the ignition. It was not long before she was darting through the early morning haze and the scenic Yorkshire countryside. Weaving a route through narrow roads, she cornered tightly keeping control of the powerful bike. She passed a stone bridge surrounded by old terrace homes sporting dark slate roofs. Centuries earlier these homes provided shelter for textile mill workers. Today they function as restored holiday cottages. The textile mill has been demolished after the once proud building stood empty for decades. Only old black and white photographs record the huge stone structure sporting tall chimneys piercing the sky. Beth was in a hurry and she took the next corner a little too fast. The bike’s back wheel slipped on the slick road surface and the bike came perilously close to the hard unforgiving edges of the dry stonewall. Winding her way across the valley, the noise of the exhaust echoed in a throaty growl as she sped through the narrow roads. The traffic was light; she had only encountered one car on her journey so far. She managed to broach the crest of the hill. The sun’s strong rays reflected on her helmet visor creating little specs of color. It reminded her of the beautiful rainbows she had seen during her visit to Niagara Falls, Canada.
She weaved through the small village of Oakworth. It was not long before she arrived at the entrance to the short road leading to Matt’s flat. He lived in a flat above a hairdressing salon. The black and red sign pronounced, “Sharon’s Place.” She drove her bike down a narrow alley and parked on the cement porch located at the rear of the store. She had done this before obtaining Sharon’s permission to leave her bike here when she visited Matt. She kicked the stand into place and leaned the bike so it would rest near a small wall. Beth walked to the red wooden door placing Matt’s flat key into the brass lock. Turning the key she pushed the door open into a small landing area. It contained a square shaped rug and a few pairs of shoes. Beth entered and closed the door behind her. Kicking off her runners she grabbed her helmet and gloves placing them on the bottom step. She looked towards the top of the stairs but could see no sign of Matt.
“Matt, it’s me Beth. Are you up there?” she yelled as she bounded up the stairs. Once upstairs she searched the flat and started to get concerned. Matt’s bed had been undisturbed and the place looked tidy. The only evidence of inhabitation seemed to be a half full glass of water. It was perched on a coaster on the living room coffee table. Everything else seemed to be in its place with the exception of Matt. He was nowhere to be seen. Beth called Matt’s mobile phone. She could hear it ring in her ear but it was not ringing in the flat. His answering machine showed four messages, all of which were from Beth.
Beth found a scrap of paper and a pen. She sat at the breakfast table and composed a short note. “Matt, I’m worried sick about you! Please call me as soon as you get home. Love, Beth.”
Beth grabbed the note and proceeded down the stairs. A quarter of the way down she stopped and turned. She propped the paper at an angle against one of the stair risers. When Matt returned this note would be at his eye level when he stood in the landing area looking up the stairs. “Where are you Matt? I just want to know you’re safe,” whispered Beth under her breath.
Beth drove home in a mental fog. She was worried. Did Matt make it home last night? Where is he? Did he fall asleep at the wheel? Should she call the police or visit Airedale Hospital? Beth decided to do something that English women had done for years when they worried about loved ones – she put the kettle on. She brewed up a strong pot of tea and tried to keep busy with chores. Beth cleaned and watched some television. She ironed and listened to her IPOD trying to relax. Beth caught her reflection in the microwave door and started to talk to herself. “Perhaps he forgot about breakfast? He was in quite a state. We always have breakfast at Benny’s, every Saturday. How could he forget that? Stay calm, he’ll show up all sheepish.
It was 3pm and Beth was worried. She called Matt’s parents and sounded more distraught than she had intended. Matt’s parents were concerned and said that they would phone around family and friends to locate Matt. They said they would call Beth the minute they located him and asked for the same courtesy. Beth decided to remain at home so she could be close to her home phone and her mobile. Later that afternoon Matt’s parents called to ask if Beth had heard anything. “No I haven’t heard anything, not a call or a text message. He hasn’t contacted me at all and I’m really worried.”
“Did you two have an argument?” asked Val, Matt’s Mother.
“No we didn’t. He had a nightmare. He decided to go home alone and sleep it off. He was staying over at my place.” Beth cringed at the thought of telling Matt’s Mum that they were sleeping together. “What the hell, he’s a big boy,” thought Beth.
“What time did he leave Beth?”
“Around 3.45am.”
“Had he been drinking?” asked Val the concern straining her voice.
“Not a drop. He was fine. He woke after a bad dream, a nightmare. He said he wasn’t sleeping well he’d had a few nightmares lately. He wanted to go home and sleep it off in his own bed. We were supposed to meet for breakfast at Benny’s at 9am. He was a no-show. He said he would call me first thing in the morning and he didn’t.” Beth was worried and she started to pick at the loose skin on her dry fingers.
“Okay Beth I want you to stay put. Someone needs to be by a phone in case he calls. Tom and I will pop over to his flat and see if he’s back. We’ll call you if we hear anything okay honey?”
“Thanks Val, I know he’s just absent minded but I do worry about him.”
“I know love; we used to do the same when he was a teenager. I’m still going to clip his ear when we find him. Now he’s got two women worrying themselves sick.” Val sounded friendly towards Beth for the first time. They had met twice and to say it was awkward was probably an understatement. Beth had made an effort to dress conservatively and had managed to hide her fox tattoo under the sleeve of her cashmere sweater. It made no difference, she still felt inadequate. This was the first time that Val had acknowledged the fact that Beth cared deeply for Matt. It seemed to have brought them closer.
It was 3.30pm and Beth was finding it difficult not knowing where Matt was. This was uncharacteristic behavior for Matt he lived on his mobile and would never go missing this long without talking with someone. Beth decided to call Eric Bates. Eric was a person Beth ran across when she was moving between foster homes and childcare facilities. Eric would often come into the homes to give advice to teens or sort out issues. He was the local police officer or as he referred to himself the village Bobbie. Beth also knew Eric on a personal level as he often spoke with her socially in the Black Bull pub. He was an engaging man and had a soft spot for Beth. He knew Beth had a rough start to life. He took enjoyment out of the fact that she had managed to make a life for herself by staying away from crime.
A year ago some teenagers had thrown rocks at windows on Sun Street doing a fair bit of damage. Beth had been lucky as her cottage escaped the foolish prank. Eric had paid a quick visit to ask Beth if she had seen anything that night. She had not but he left his business card in case she remembered anything. Beth tacked it to the inside of a kitchen cabinet door along with the other emergency numbers. She opened the door and grabbed the card. Glancing to the bottom of the card her eyes fell to the police station phone number. She walked over to her armchair and sank into its welcoming embrace. She leaned over to lift the phone receiver. Right at that moment the phone rang startling her. She quickly picked up the receiver placing it to her ear.
“Hello?”
“Good afternoon Beth it’s PC Bates calling I was wondering if I could have a quick word?”
Beth stared at the card in her hand. “I was going to call you, I needed to talk with you,” said Beth sounding confused.
“Good. Is it convenient if I pop over Beth? Should only take me a few minutes?”
“Sure. Sure, I’ll be expecting you,” said Beth in a fog.
“Right then I’ll be over soon.”
“Okay bye.” Beth hung up the receiver and her heart sank into her stomach. This was like a scene from a soap opera when the cop visits the loved ones to inform them of the terrible fatal accident. Beth was shaking and needed to pull herself together. Her thoughts were scattered. “That was a coincidence I had his card in my hand. There are no coincidences. I haven’t heard from Val. I wonder if she sent Eric over to talk to me.”
It seemed like hours had passed but in reality ten minutes had elapsed. Ten minutes of running through every morbid scenario possible. By the time the doorbell rang Beth was an emotional mess. She raised herself from the comfy refuge of her deep armchair and walked towards her cottage door. Words escaped from her mouth. She had little control they just seemed to arrive, “I don’t want to do this but I must.”
Beth opened the door slowly, her heart beating rapidly as it pushed the blood through her veins. Waiting expectantly on her front step was PC Eric Bates in full police uniform. He smiled awkwardly and asked if he could come in. Beth moved aside and motioned for him to enter. They stood in silence in the small living room. Beth noticed how tall Eric seemed. She was still shaking. “Sit down please,” said Beth motioning to the armchair unsure of the protocol.
“Thanks,” said Eric descending into a deep armchair. Beth perched on the edge of the couch and braced herself for the worse. “I’d like to talk with you about Matt if you don’t mind?”
“Sure,” was the only word Beth could muster?
“We’ve been talking with Matt’s parents and it seems he’s gone missing. We understand you were the last person to see him as he was staying with you last night. Apparently he had some sort of bad dream? After that he left to go home and never arrived. Is that your recollection Beth?”
“That’s right. Do you know where Matt is? Is he alright?”
“Sorry Beth we don’t know where he is and we can’t start to formally investigate for 48 hours. A missing person is not a formal missing person until 48 hours have passed from the filing of the report. Matt’s parents have now filed the report so the clock is ticking. Beth it’s not uncommon for people to want to just escape and chill out for a few days. It happens all the time.”
“Not with Matt, this is highly unusual.”
“I know and that’s why I’m here. People do show up eventually with all kinds of reasons. They sometimes need time to think. They want to be alone. They wanted to do something impulsive. They were so busy having fun they never checked in with loved ones. We’ve heard it all Beth. Matt’s a good kid, I know him. I agree with you this is highly unusual. He has no reason to run and no reason to hide. Can you shed any light on this? Did you two fight or argue over something?”
Beth flicked her eyes towards Eric without moving her head, “No.”
“Why would he leave? What reason would he have to just escape for a few days?”
“He wouldn’t have one.”
“What bad dreams was he having? You mentioned bad dreams?”
“Actually, I didn’t mentioned bad dreams, you did. I’m not sure what they were about, he didn’t want to talk about them but he mentioned something about a fight in his dreams.”
“Who was he fighting?”
“I don’t know, an imaginary figure I guess, no one that he knew.”
“Was he on any kind of medication Beth?”
“You mean did he do drugs? That’s what you mean isn’t it Eric?”
“Did he?”
“No, Matt didn’t do that stuff. He didn’t smoke or do drugs. He hardly ever drank and he had one coffee per day. He valued his health. You don’t know where he is. Do you?”
An awkward silence followed as Eric weighed his response in a careful considerate way. When he finally resumed eye contact with Beth he had decided that honesty was the most effective of the possible options. “No, we don’t. I’m here as a friend trying to understand a few details ahead of the investigation Beth. We can’t start an investigation for a couple of days. I’d like Matt to come bouncing through that door with a hangover and a smile on his face. Like you, I know Matt. This is not something that he would do. I’m just as concerned as you. You know Beth, Matt’s an adult. If he wanted to take off it’s not against the law. We have to be careful that we’re not infringing upon his rights. We also recognize that if he has gone missing due to foul play these next 48 hours are critical.” Eric glanced at the business card lying next to the phone recognizing it as his own. “Look you have my card,” he said making a gesture with his head towards the card. “Call me if you have any questions or if you remember anything helpful. I’d like to help but I can’t formally just yet. Beth what time did Matt leave you?”
Beth took a deep breath suspecting she was being asked questions where Eric already knew the answers. She calmed herself and tried to answer with a steady tone designed to mask her displeasure. “As I told Matt’s Mum, 3.45am, and no, he’d not been drinking, nor doing any drugs.”
“Thanks Beth. I know this is hard for you. Not knowing what happened or why is the worse feeling of all. I’m sure that you’re making up all kinds of scenarios. Give him some time to work it out and I’m sure he’ll be back here soon, full of stories and apologies.” Eric was halfhearted in his delivery trying to hide his true feelings. “I’ll see myself out love.”
Eric smiled and exerted considerable energy to rise from the armchair. He walked to the door and left Beth to ponder on what may have happened to Matt.
* * * * *
Chapter 4: Jackson’s Promise
City of York, England, 1890.
The sound of scratching, accompanied by the soft whimpering noise of a dog, penetrated his thoughts. Jackson heard more scratching louder this time. The fire had been reduced to small embers and the room had a slight chill to it. It was early morning and Jackson struggled to open his heavy eyelids. His body ached from the contorted position he selected to sleep in. He had struggled to get comfortable sleeping in the armchair next to his Master’s bed. Dusty was circling the room clearly distraught and scratching at the closed wooden door. Dusty needed to relieve himself and knew he would be disciplined if he did this inside the house. Noticing a movement from the armchair, he turned quickly and approached his Master, wagging his tail furiously.
“Good morning boy, I know you have to go. Just wait and I’ll let you out.” To the rear of the house was a thicket with a large patch of grass. Jackson took a quick look at his Master’s body still sleeping in the bed and breathing heavily. The swelling on his face remained and the bruising was now purple in color. It still looked like he had been on the losing side of a fight. “Let’s get you looked after first Dusty, then we’ll look after the Master. Although I think you’re going to be easier.”
Jackson opened the bedroom door just enough for Dusty to push his way through and charge downstairs to the back servant’s door. Jackson rubbed his sore back and wished he had the comfort provided by his own bed last night. It was early but the live-in staff had started their day with the morning activities in the kitchen. He grabbed a large log and placed it into the fireplace to provide additional warmth. Jackson stumbled downstairs and was greeted by Dusty anxious to get outside. “I’m coming. I’m coming, settle down boy.”
Jackson opened the servant’s door at the rear of the house. Dusty did not wait for permission; he was gone in a flash. Jackson closed the door immediately keeping the cool morning air out. He leaned against the wall and rubbed his large hand across his face rubbing his weary eyes. He yawned and tried to recall the events of last night. Something was not right; it bothered him. The story relayed to him was not credible but he would talk with his Master today and get the real story. A thud at the door followed by scratching signaled the return of Dusty. Jackson opened the door to see a blur of tri-colored fur race by heading for the kitchen. Jackson closed the door and walked towards the same location. “Good morning all,” said Jackson sounding tired.
“What happened to you last night?” asked Mary. Mary was the head domestic. She was a cheerful woman, stout in stature. She ran the household with an iron fist and an eye for detail. Mary was respected and liked; she knew what she wanted and she always got it.
“Listen to me everyone,” said Jackson in a serious tone sitting at the servant’s breakfast table. Mary turned immediately to listen to Jackson’s message. David, the junior breakfast cook, stopped his activities and turned to face Jackson. Molly, the scullery maid, also stopped preparing the scraps for Dusty’s morning meal. The kitchen ground to a halt recognizing the seriousness of the tone Jackson had just used. Dusty was agitated he could not understand why Molly delayed the preparation of his meal. “The Master had a rough night last night. He returned to the house quite late and in bad shape. I’m not sure what happened but it looks like he may have been attacked. He’s badly bruised about the face and neck. I’ve not had a chance to talk with him yet to get more details. He’s still sleeping and recovering in his quarters. I want you all to be quiet today and try not to disturb him.”
Dusty was growing more agitated and started to climb the counter pushing onto his hind legs looking for his meal. He could smell it and knew it was sitting in his bowl on the counter. Molly grabbed the bowl and stooped quickly to calm the dog by giving him his food. Dusty never seemed to chew his food, it just seemed to enter his mouth and disappear. Today was no exception; within seconds of the bowl touching the floor he lunged forward to devour the scraps of meat and vegetables. They were soon gone and Dusty was licking his chops. With the dog sorted the attention switched back to Jackson.
Jackson held his head in his hands with his elbows firmly planted on the breakfast table in a tired pose. “Something happened last night, a man brought the Master back to the house. I didn’t recognize him; he seemed to be hiding his face. He was a gentleman wearing fine clothes and spoke with a clear crisp voice. He called himself a friend of the Master but it didn’t feel right. Even Dusty growled at him and Dusty’s a pretty good judge of character, aren’t you boy.” Dusty lay on the floor content with his belly full after his morning meal. He lifted his head and flicked his eyes towards his Master each time his name was mentioned.
“How badly was the Master injured?” asked Molly in a concerned voice.
“His face and neck were badly bruised and covered in blood. He seems to have a few bruises on his ribs. They seem painful but I think he’s okay. He was sick last night and the man told me that Master had a lot to drink. What doesn’t make sense is we know the Master doesn’t drink much. It sure looked like he was drunk. He couldn’t stand and he couldn’t really talk. I got him to bed as soon as I could to let him sleep it off. It’s his face that’s bothering me.”
“Why” asked Mary?
Jackson shook his head still cradled in his large rough hands. “Mary, remember how I used to look when I lost a street fight?” Mary nodded making a face. “Well that’s how the Master looked last night and this morning. It looks like he’s been on the wrong end of a fight. The gentleman said he fell into a table at the pub. You don’t look like that falling into a table. One of his eyes has completely closed and both sides of his face and neck are bruised. It looks like a fight.”
“Was he attacked by thieves?” said Mary looking for a plausible explanation.
“That would make more sense, but his ring, wallet and pocket-watch were all present when the Master returned. His clothing was not torn or damaged. He wasn’t robbed.” Jackson released his head from his hands and sat upright. He shook his head from side to side slowly as if trying to solve the puzzle.
“Perhaps he took a bet and lost in a fight?” said David offering his possibility.
“A fine suggestion David but when you know the Master as long as we have you’ll know that he never gets into fights. He never makes wagers either.” Jackson leaned forward away from his chair and stretched out a hand to rub Dusty’s ears. Dusty was appreciative of the affection and responded by licking one of Jackson’s large fingers.
“I think we’re missing the point,” said Mary. “The Master needs our support and he needs our discretion until he’s ready to tell us what really happened. Until then we should keep our theories to ourselves. We should not gossip with the day staff when they arrive. A big part of being live-in is discretion. We don’t want the day staff leaving after their shift and spreading tales around the city.”
“Quite right,” said Molly firmly.
“Yes, quite right indeed,” said Jackson. “Thank you Mary you’re right. Let’s go about our business in the usual manner today and I will keep you informed as to the Master’s progress when the day staff leaves. I’m going to check in on the Master but if you see him today just act normal and don’t mention his injuries. I suspect he’ll remain in his quarters today.”
“You heard the man, back to work.” Mary nodded to Jackson and the approach was sealed.
Jackson swung his arms in a motion designed to help him shift his weight into a standing position. He walked out of the kitchen and headed towards his Master’s quarters. As he strode forward his loyal companion followed quickly behind. Dusty never let his Master get too far out of sight. Dusty followed his Master to the room they had spent the night in. He walked over to the rekindled fire and sat on the woolen rug. He curled in a ball resting his snout on his white tipped tail. He positioned his head where he could observe the room and keep an eye on his Master.
The room had warmed to the crackling fire. It was now in full force. Jackson walked over to the bed quietly and bent over to look at the sleeping frame of his Master. He was breathing heavily. He still had vomit and blood stains around his mouth from last night. His face looked sore and bruised with visible scratches, scrapes and welts. The injuries were extensive and looked worse in the harsh light of the morning sun.
“Jackson,” said Harold in a low rasping painful voice. Harold tried to lift an arm and repeated his cry for help, “Jackson.”
“I’m here Sir,” said Jackson stooping over his Master straining to hear his words.
“Get Doctor Jenkins, its poison.” Harold struggled to form the words. Jackson understood immediately. The strange odor of his vomit, the loss of bodily control; it pointed to something sinister. Harold ran to the door and barked out an order loudly. Dusty did not rise to his feet but he lifted his head at the sudden movement within the room.
“David! Quickly, come up here now.” David arrived quickly he looked confused and scared. He was given instructions to talk to nobody. He needed to leave immediately and bring Doctor Jenkins to the house. Doctor Jenkins ran his practice from within his home about a five-minute walk away. David had run errands before and knew where to go. “Tell Doctor Jenkins that we suspect the Master was poisoned last night. Tell him to come quickly.”
David fled the Master’s quarters and ran from the house to deliver the message. Jackson went back to his Master’s bedside. “Who did this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who beat you?”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember.” It was an effort to push the words out.
“Please rest. You don’t have to talk right now save your strength.”
Dusty has rested his chin back upon the woolen rug when he caught movement in the doorframe. He flicked his eyes upwards to survey the scene. “Is the Master okay?” asked Mary standing just outside of the room. She had heard David running from the house and became concerned.
“Poison Mary, he told me he was poisoned. I’ve sent for Doctor Jenkins, the Master seems to be getting weak.” Jackson was a tall man and fiercely loyal. He flashed his green eyes at Mary and she recognized something about him that she had not seen before. It was the first time she had seen him scared. He was a tough man and useful to have around. The house felt safe with him here. This was different. He could do little to help his Master and he knew it was serious.
“Do you need anything?” asked Mary concerned.
“I don’t know? I don’t know what we need?” admitted Jackson looking distraught.
“Doctor Jenkins will be here soon. He’s a good family friend. He’ll know what to do.” Mary moved her eyes rapidly towards the bed; an unusual noise was coming from the Master. It was a cross between a high-pitched moan and a cough. The Master lunged forward his head leaving his pillows and doubling over his chest. Within seconds they both were approaching his bed. Jackson arrived first and tried to support his Master’s back with his strong arms. He leaned forward and coughed violently again. This time the sound seemed different. It was followed by a large quantity of fluid expelled from his mouth. It hit the bed sheets and the floor. This caused alarm as the fluid was laced with red blood. Dusty had heard the sound and leapt to his feet. He was at the side of the bed sniffing the liquid on the floor. The odor was foul and he back away quickly.
“I’ll get some things to clean this mess up and change those sheets,” said Mary turning away and leaving the room.
Jackson looked at the Master bruised and covered in blood. He was beyond concerned; he felt panic. The Master always seemed to be in control with an appropriate response for everything. He was strong and charismatic. Jackson had never seen the Master like this before. He looked frail, sick and vulnerable. The swelling on his face made him look unrecognizable. He coughed again and Jackson’s heart skipped as his Master lunged forward in a spasm. This time it was just a cough and was not accompanied with any blood.
Jackson knew this was serious; they needed the Doctor and a quick intervention. “Where’s that damn boy?” thought Jackson getting more concerned with each passing second. Dusty’s head jerked towards the door. Jackson caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and spun to look at the doorway. The small figure of Doctor Jenkins was entering the room carrying a large black leather bag.
Doctor Jenkins was a short man a little over five feet tall. He may have been short in stature but he was intelligent with a memory that could not be challenged. He graduated from his medical school with grades unparalleled in their history. He was ahead of his time and known for being a brilliant Doctor. His eyes widened when he saw the scene before him. “Jackson, raise him now. Prop him up with those pillows immediately.” He dipped two fingers into the bloody discharge and smelled them looking for answers.
Jackson propped him up and let the Master lay back into the pillows with a groan. Jackson looked at the doctor wiping his fingers and studying his Master’s face. “What happened to his face?” inquired the Doctor. He leaned forward and opened the Master’s mouth positioning his tongue and ensuring he did not choke on his own vomit.
“A gentleman returned him early this morning, he told me that he got drunk and fell into a table at the pub. I didn’t recognize the gentleman. I hadn’t seen him before.”
“Well that’s not right. It looks like he was beaten. How do you know he was poisoned?” The Doctor threw the sheets on the floor and examined his body.
“He was talking for a while this morning and managed to whisper the word poison to me.”
“He has some bruising on his ribs but his neck and face took the brunt of the beating. Get me some warm water, some towels to clean him up and some clean sheets. Bring as many warm blankets as you can, now.”
Jackson looked at his Master quickly and left the room to find Mary. As Jackson disappeared through the door he was followed closely by Dusty, his loyal Beagle. Jackson entered the kitchen; he was out of breath and had been running to convey the instructions quickly. A brief conversation occurred with Mary and she loaded Jackson’s arms with clean sheets and towels. He returned to his Master’s quarters to find an unusual sight. The bed was stripped and his Master was lying face down on the floor with the doctor examining his back. Mary followed Jackson into the room and set down a large bowl of boiled water. Mary made the bed with fresh linens. Jackson marveled at how quickly Mary operated. The Master was returned to his bed with Jackson’s strong frame providing the leverage. The Doctor was distracted and worked on something off to the side. He had four uncorked glass bottles lined up on the top of the wooden dresser. Most contained murky liquids, one had clear contents, like a spring creek. He was mixing a concoction as Mary tucked in the clean sheets and warm blankets around the Master’s motionless body.
The Doctor leaned over the Master and poured the medicine into his mouth. The Master let out a hollow sound and sank deeply into the comfort of the pillows. His breathing was steady but heavy. His chest rose and sank in an exaggerated manner. The sound of his exhales had a slight gurgle attached to it indicating all was not well. The Doctor examined the sides of his neck and opened his mouth. It seemed to annoy the Master who pulled away more from reflex than conscious decision.
“Now listen to me carefully and follow all of my instructions. He has a fever and needs to be kept warm. He will start to sweat and then have shivers. I don’t care what he tells you, he needs to remain in bed and under those blankets. He’s very sick. I mean really sick, do you understand? I agree with his assessment. Someone has poisoned him but I don’t know what was used. He’ll need plenty of rest and plenty of water. Someone needs to be with him at all times. If he coughs up blood again you must come and get me immediately. I can’t do any more for him now. It’s up to him. He’s very weak but he’ll need to fight this. He’s fighting for his life. If he wakes up try to keep him still and try to give him as much water as you can. Boil it first to make sure it’s as clean as possible. I have to be honest with you, it’s not looking good. He’s a good friend and I’ve done all I can, I just hope it’s enough. Try to find out who did this? That’s all he’s allowed to talk about. I have a practice to run and people waiting for me but I’ll be back later tonight to check in on him. For now he needs rest but send for me immediately if you need me. Any changes in his condition or any coughed up blood I want to know.”
“Thank you Doctor,” said Jackson watching the Doctor loading his glass bottles into his leather bag. “We’ll watch him and make sure he gets that rest.”
Mary escorted the Doctor out while Dusty repositioned himself on the woolen rug. David arrived to take away the soiled bed sheets still heaped on the floor next to the bed. David could not resist peeking at his Master’s face as he went about his errands. Jackson took the first shift loading the fire with logs to keep the room warm. David relieved Jackson and remained in the room for hours. Although it was boring, it was easier than his daily duties. When Jackson finally returned Dusty walked to the side of the bed and licked the fingers of his Master’s outstretched hand.
As Jackson settled into the armchair, his Master’s eyes flicked open. He turned his head slightly and tried to talk. “Come over here Jackson.”
Jackson moved from the armchair and bent over his Master’s bed. “Tell me who did this to you?”
“Look at the bed’s headboard. Can you see the Rose? You need to turn it.” The Master tried to point upwards at the Rose but did not possess the strength to lift his arm.
“What? What are you trying to do?” said Jackson puzzled. “Hush now you have to save your strength Doctor’s orders.”
“Turn the Rose, turn it.” The Master continued to try to point to a carved wooden Rose housed within the headboard of the bed.
Jackson reached out towards the wooden Rose and turned it clockwise. To his surprise the Rose rotated easily and a small drawer slid open at the top of the headboard. It looked like a piece of inlaid wood but it was the front slat of a hidden compartment. Jackson peered inside the drawer. He could see that it was lined with green felt. Suddenly the room smelled sweet like wild flowers or scented soap. Lying centered in the drawer was a folded parchment envelope. The paper looked old and decorated with odd symbols. Jackson reached in and grabbed the envelope. The Master reached upwards with his frail arm and managed to push the hidden drawer back into place. He motioned Jackson to come closer.
“Listen to me very carefully. You are in grave danger people will try to kill you. Inside the envelope is an address in London. You must take the envelope to the man at that address immediately.” Jackson started to say no. He did not want to leave his Master in such poor health. “Don’t argue with me. The man in London is called the Soul Collector. Inside that envelope is an ancient and powerful Amulet. Many would kill you to get it. You must promise me to keep it safe and go to this man immediately. Promise me, it’s of the upmost importance above all else. Promise me!” The Master was getting excited and this was clearly not good for his recovery. He needed to calm down immediately and Jackson heard the words flow from his mouth in an unconscious stream.
“I promise you, I’ll go see this Soul Collector.” He said it to calm the Master down and had no intention of leaving until his health had returned. “Now you listen to me, don’t do any more talking, you need to rest.”
The Master was having nothing to do with Jackson’s instructions. He pointed to a drawer at the side of the bed. “Open it,” he barked. Dusty continued to watch everything transpire from the comfort and warmth of the woolen rug.
Jackson opened the bedside drawer and stared at a leather pouch with a drawstring. He reached in and lifted the pouch out into the open. It felt heavy and Jackson knew it contained coins. “Take the money and go to London now. It’s too late for me now. I’m too badly damaged. Nothing can save me now. I haven’t got much time. You need to wear my ring so he’ll know that I sent you. Here take it. Be careful and guard the Amulet with your life.”
Jackson slipped the ring onto his finger and opened the pouch to look at the shiny coins contained within. Lifting his gaze towards his Master he froze in horror. The glazed eyes and motionless body was not that of a man asleep. He had passed away and Jackson felt like someone had stuck a sword deep into his torso. Jackson checked for a breath and closed his Master’s eyelids. Dusty quietly walked over to the side of the bed. Smelling death, he licked the fingers of his Master to try to comfort him. Jackson slumped over his Master and wept uncontrollably. After a while Jackson realized the futility of the situation and realized he might be in danger. Jackson was unfamiliar with the word Amulet. He didn’t really know what an Amulet was. Jackson opened the envelope and removed the letter. The contents smelled sweet, a fragrance that reminded him of his youth. Running through the fields of grass as the wind blew the hardy flowers. He tilted the envelope to reveal a small thin carved object. The Amulet was made from smooth black wood. It was sealed with a thick shiny layer of protective resin. It was clearly the Amulet that smelled good. The carved head was the size of a gentleman’s topcoat button. It was in the shape of a dog’s head. He held it close to his face and inspected the carved details, his nose dwelling on the scent. “So this is what everyone wants? This is worth killing people for?”
The letter looked different from the envelope it looked more recent, the paper was new. The letter was written in dark black ink and the handwriting looked familiar. It was his Master’s handwriting and Jackson had seen it many times before. He slumped back into the armchair and started to read the letter.
The letter was brief and addressed to whom it concerns. It contained instructions to deliver the Amulet and his Ring to the Soul Collector. The letter contained an address with strange symbols upon each side. Jackson thought about his Master’s last words. He knew he had been poisoned and whoever did this wanted this Amulet. The Amulet did not look precious or in the slightest way important. It was important enough to kill for and he was warned that he was now in great danger. He needed to find this Soul Collector. Perhaps he could shed some light on why this small little dog’s head is so desirable. Jackson placed the Amulet and letter into the envelope and tucked it into his inside jacket pocket. He grabbed the pouch of coins and pushed it deep into the side pocket of his jacket.
Jackson left his Master’s bedroom with his promise to find the Soul Collector still running through his mind. He went immediately to the kitchen and found Mary. “Mary listen to me I have to go. The Master has passed away but he asked me to do an important errand. It was his dying wish.”
“He’s dead?” said Mary her eyes welling up with sweet loyal tears. “Where are you going?”
“He asked me to find a gentleman friend of his in London. He asked me to seek him out and take to him a letter and his ring.” Jackson raised his hand to signal to Mary that he had his Master’s ring.
“What letter? Why?”
“I can’t tell you because I don’t know. He said I was in grave danger and that I need to go immediately. Mary I’ve trusted him all my life I’m not going to start to question him now. I have to go and I’m going now. You will need to deal with Doctor Jenkins and don’t mention my assignment. Tell him I was called away to deal with a family situation of my own. Mary I promised him I would do this and I have to go. You know sometimes you have to let him go, because it’s for the best, even though at the time you don’t think so.” Jackson sounded scared. Mary had known Jackson for twenty years this series of events was the first time she had seen him scared. She could not explain why she leaned in and kissed his cheek, she just did.
“Good luck Jackson. Come back once you have fulfilled your promise.
“I will. Now I need to go.”
Jackson grabbed a long heavy coat and slipped it over his jacket. Mary returned from the counter and handed him an apple. “It’s a long way to London. Do you know how you’re going to get there?”
“I’ll be fine. Tell David to get Doctor Jenkins.” Jackson turned and left the house. He did not leave alone. Dusty’s speed allowed him to just make it through the open gap as the door swung closed.
* * * * *
Chapter 5: Floating down the Aisle
Haworth, West Yorkshire, England, Present day.
The activity level had dropped in Haworth, it was early evening and the light had faded. The village seemed calmer now, inhabited by locals and the few remaining visitors resigned to spending the evening. The bright mid-day sun had retreated over the hills of the moors casting long shadows as it left. This was Beth’s favorite time in Haworth when the still calm descended and the village fell into its broody dark Victorian state. During the day the streets are filled with sunshine, laughing children and curious visitors. In the early evening the stone seemed darker and the village felt different. The character of the village changed to a melancholy mood described by so many Victorian novels.
The Main Street glistened from an earlier rain shower and the tour buses had long since vanished. Visitors had completed their tours of the parsonage, sipped high tea in the tearooms and meandered through the curiosity shops. Some may have stopped to enjoy a snack and a pint at the Black Bull. The street was now empty as a yellow and black calico tabby ran for cover from the threatening skies. The wind picked up and with it came a fine wet mist. Beth was not sure why she was walking up Haworth Main Street. She could not stay in her cottage any longer worrying about Matt. The cottage was small and cozy but today it felt as if the walls were moving in on her. She felt trapped and alone. Beth remembered her time at the childcare facilities when she was an orphan. She decided to do what she always did to cope with this feeling, run.
Beth had left the house for a change of scenery and some fresh air. In her haste she had not realized the fine misty rain being carried by the wind. She had not dressed appropriately and her hair was starting to get wet. She walked past the Fleece pub and remembered the night she was struck by lightning. “It was right there near this streetlight,” she said narrating her own recollection of the incident.
She had not decided where she was going but she knew she was heading in the direction of several pubs and a tearoom serving hot tea and pastries. Beth picked up the pace as water droplets streamed from her brow into her eyes. She brushed the water away from the end of her nose noticing her cheeks felt cold and numb. Beth wore a waterproof jacket made from synthetic nylon that provided a decent barrier to the encroaching rain. Beth’s hair was quickly becoming a wet matted mess. Her familiar jeans felt heavy as they soaked up the rain. She needed to quickly find shelter and a place to warm up. Beth had no idea where she would end up tonight and it made her feel uneasy. She was such an organized, strong willed person; walking aimlessly was not her style. She just knew she had to go somewhere. Remaining trapped in her house was not an appealing option. A thought surged through the confused noise in her head, “If this is coffee, please bring me some tea; but if this is tea, please bring me some coffee. Good old Abraham Lincoln knew how I felt,” she said to herself knowing his quote accurately reflected her current mood.
She had no idea what she wanted to do and it made her angry, irritated and uneasy. Beth approached the tearoom only to discover she was too late. Glancing through the window into the darkened empty store she could see chairs upturned and perched upon the tabletops. The floors had been swept and the steady stream of visitors satisfied for another day. She pressed onwards trying to find a place that would provide her shelter from the cold wet wind. The wind grew stronger and delivered a lashing blow to Beth’s face sheeting her with wet spray. She walked quickly leaning into the strong wind feeling totally lost within her own village.
“Millions long for immortality who don’t know what to do with themselves on a rainy Sunday afternoon, Susan Ertz.” Various thoughts mixed with quotes were racing through her mind like a game to pass the time. She arrived at the top of the hill and seemed to be drawn inevitably to the entrance of the Black Bull pub.
She glanced at the red phone booth and recalled the last time she was caught in a storm at this location. “This is too much like last time. I can’t handle all of these moving parts it’s causing me too much stress. I’m going for a drink.” Beth walked towards the shelter of the pub’s doorway and for some reason stopped without entering. She could hear the raucous laughter seeping through the door and imagined the warm reception she would receive if she stepped inside. A strong feeling washed over her. She could not explain why but she just knew that going inside was the wrong thing to do. “I don’t need booze or drunken bar-based advice. Free advice is usually worth the price. I need something more than intoxicated rhetoric. I need something considerate, balanced and pure.” It was a strong thought that literally prevented her from entering the pub.
Standing in the rain Beth was cold, frustrated and feeling helpless. Matt had disappeared and she knew something was wrong. He was not the type to just run away. “If Matt wasn’t found then the police will come for me. I was the last to see him alive. That makes me the chief suspect,” said Beth watching the warm air from her mouth form into fog clouds. She leaned against the wall and pulled a contorted face from sheer frustration. She heard a click and the pub door opened pushing Beth backwards onto the street and back into the rain.
“Sorry love I didn’t see you I swear. You okay?” said a man in a long back parka holding his hood to provide protection from the rain.
“I’m fine thanks,” said Beth looking down at her wet jeans.
“Get inside dear, it’s warm and dry in there.” The man turned and ran hugging the side of the street to find shelter. Beth watched him scurrying away like the cat earlier.
Beth was about to take the man’s advice and enter the pub when she saw a bright light. She turned her head towards a warm yellow light shining from the Church window. The light looked strong, inviting and pure. It acted like a magnet drawing Beth towards it. “I don’t need booze perhaps I should just pray. Matt where are you my love? I need to get inside where it’s warm and dry.” Beth felt surprised. She would never describe herself as spiritual in a Church sense. She felt self conscious about entering a Church as if she was a fraud.
Beth ascended the slate steps they were shiny and slick from the rain. She hurried into the sheltered doorway. She hesitated for a moment before entering. She was deciding if she could go through with this when a thought burst forward causing her to smile. “If you talk to God, you are praying; if God talks to you, you have schizophrenia.” Her smile quickly subsided and she pushed her way into the Church.
This was a quiet somber serious place, a place of prayer and reflection, she did not feel smiling was appropriate. Beth had spent little time in Church; she had never felt the need. Church always made her feel insignificant and not worthy. Tonight she was drawn to the Church to shelter from both the rain and the noise invading her life. She needed a quiet place to pray and reflect. She felt uneasy as she entered the Church; it was exactly how she had imagined. The Church had a long center aisle leading to a large stained glass window at the prayer altar. Richly colored wooden benches were lined across the Church, breaking only for the center aisle. The floor was made from grey stone tiles supporting sweeping arches that bowed majestically. The arches supported more stained glass and a vaulted roof.
Large beams could be seen crossing the roof. A mural was painted on a background of gold. It decorated the facing wall that separated the pews from the choir seats. Candles illuminated the pulpit and the altar. Along the exterior wall were plaques and beautiful stained glass windows. The darkness outside made it difficult to appreciate their beauty. Thick walls and stone arches loomed large making Beth feel uncomfortable. She did not belong. She felt as if she was intruding but she was the only person in the Church. It was dry, warm and inviting yet she still had this uneasy feeling. The Church was quiet and serene. She walked down the aisle in a respectful way. She looked forward towards the front of the Church and scanned the mural painted high above her head. Beth looked to her left and stopped four rows from the front.
Beth sat on the wooden bench and leaned forward clasping her hands in prayer. She rested her rain soaked head upon her clasped hands letting out a deep silent sigh. Her mind was still and she tried to soak up the calming atmosphere of the Church. A small noise at the front of the Church immediately drew her attention and she lifted her head. A man could be seen moving candles on a small prayer table at the front. He was dressed in black robes and a dog collar and was clearly a man of the cloth. He had assumed the Church to be empty and went about his chores oblivious to Beth’s presence. Beth remained quiet making no attempt to alert the man and attract attention. He seemed busy but moved with a calm assuredness. As he moved from the head table his face jerked to one side as his eyes registered the lone figure of a woman sat within the congregational pews.
A dull light surrounded her head and she looked straight through the man like a ghostly specter. He had to look hard to make sure she was human and not a trick of the light deceiving his eyes. The Black Bull pub was only a few feet away and is recognized as one of the most haunted places in the region. The Vicar had heard noises in the Church but had never seen any ghosts before. He stared more intently to determine if she was real.
It was an abnormally long amount of time before Beth realized she had been seen and the Vicar was staring right at her. She responded with a polite smile. He took this as an invitation and started to walk towards her. He wore plain black undecorated robes that flowed when he walked. It seemed like he was floating instead of the usual gait of a man’s walk. When he approached, Beth managed to get a clearer view of his face. His features were framed by a crisp white dog collar. Beth examined the man’s face realizing how young the Vicar appeared. He was handsome in a simple way and not what Beth had expected.
“I’m sorry to disturb you. I’m the Vicar here at St. Michaels and all Angels; you can call me Mark if you want. I do hope you don’t mind me intruding upon your thoughts but I didn’t realize anyone was in here and I didn’t want to appear rude,” he said in a genuine way.
“Rudeness is the weak man’s imitation of strength. You weren’t rude; you were just going about your business. I was the rude one. I should have announced my presence. My name’s Beth I live here in the village and I just needed to be alone with my thoughts.” Beth extended her hand for the Vicar to shake.
The Vicar shook Beth’s hand with a polite but firm handshake. It was the right length of time and the right firmness. It was a trustworthy handshake. “That’s quite alright sometimes people want to be invisible. Sometimes people want to talk and sometimes they want to listen. I respect that.”
“A good listener is a good talker with a sore throat,” quipped Beth without thinking.
The Vicar smiled, “Who said that?”
“Katharine Whitehorn was responsible for that quote.” Keeping her eyes in a downward gaze she continued with her awkward conversation. “Well actually I’m not very good at this. I don’t usually come to Church. I don’t really have a chosen religion.” Beth paused and shifted her weight on the uncomfortable bench.
“Well you’re here now so something inside of you brought you here tonight.”
The Vicar was right, there are no coincidences. Beth could not hold back any longer. “If it’s okay with you I could really use some advice.” It did not seem like her own voice but the words reflected her true feelings.
The Vicar smiled, leaned in and eased Beth into a conversation. “Advice is what we ask for when we already know the answer but wish we didn’t.” The Vicar looked pleased with his recall of an appropriate quote.
“Erica Jong,” said Beth raising her eyes and smiling. “I believe that’s her quote.”
“You’re good at this. You seem to have a good command of other people’s words, how about using some of your own? Why don’t you take your time and tell me what’s on your mind.” The Vicar sat in the row ahead of Beth and leaned backwards turning to face her. He placed his hand on the back of the bench to provide support to his twisted body. He wrapped his fingers around the smooth curved back of the wooden bench. Beth felt shy and looked down at his hand, avoiding eye contact and unsure of where to begin.
“I’m scared and confused. My fiancé was a wonderful guy, always fun and happy. Lately he’s been having terrible nightmares involving acts of violence and murder. He wakes up scared to death and covered in sweat. Nothing much has changed in his life to cause this extreme behavior. It’s been getting worse and now he’s convinced that he’s the one in his dreams committing these gross acts. He’s mentioned having the same dream over and over and he’s obsessed. The dream is set in the past in olden days. He’s convinced it’s real like a past life or something. Last night he had the most vivid nightmare that he’s ever had and it shook him up badly. He was staying at my house and,” Beth paused in horror.
“It’s okay I’m a Vicar with modern views built for coping in the real world. Your fiancée was staying over at your house and,” the Vicar waited expectantly.
“He was so frightened by his nightmare he decided to go home and sleep it off alone. He lives in Oakworth so it shouldn’t have taken him long to get home. The problem is he’s gone missing and the police are asking me questions.” Beth’s desperate eyes screamed out for help.
“Do you know where he is and you’re not telling the police?”
“No. I have no idea where he is and it’s not like him to just leave without staying in touch.”
“So in your heart you know something is wrong. He’s not the sort of bloke to just go walkabouts?”
“Correct. I’ve been phoning his mobile and he lives on that thing. I’ve been getting nothing but voice mail, I’m worried.”
“What are the police doing?”
“Nothing until he’s officially a missing person.”
“Right, I know that process. Have you reported him as missing yet?”
“No his Mum has. I was the last person to see him before he disappeared. I know the police are going to want to question me more and I don’t know what to say. He had a scarily bad nightmare and left. That’s all I know and now I feel like the one in the nightmare.”
The Vicar paused knowing that his next piece of advice was important and had to be just right. “You have to have some faith. You know you didn’t do anything wrong but the uncertainty is what’s killing you. Try to take it easy and distract yourself as difficult as that might seem. You have to cooperate with the police and let them do their job. Remember they’re trying to help you by closing down the viable alternatives.”
“I know.” Beth’s voice trembled.
“I’m sure he’ll turn up but at this stage we don’t know what happened to him. We don’t know why he can’t reach out to you right now. Give it some time and help all that you can. I know the waiting is tough. Remember this, you can come here any time if you feel you need to. I’m always here and I’m always available to talk should you want to. If you need support or an ear to bend then just come and find me Beth.”
“Thanks,” said Beth knowing his offer was genuine.
“Try to stay positive about the outcome and this will sort itself out. Let the police do their job, after all, what can you do? What would your fiancée want you to do? Probably stay strong and be ready to support him when he does show up.”
“You’re right.”
“The bad dreams are interesting but Beth he’s not unique. We all have bad dreams at some point in our life. Many things can cause nightmares; the brain is a complex organ. Sometimes you swear the dreams are real because they seem so real. You need to be strong for him. If it would help I suggest we both ask for guidance right now. Let’s say quiet prayers together, are you up for that?”
Beth did not have the heart to tell the Vicar that praying for Matt was futile. He had been so kind, “Yes, I’d like that.” Beth closed her eyes and clasped her hands. She tried to clear her mind and think of nothing. After what she considered an appropriate amount of time to do this ritual justice, she opened her eyes. The Vicar was still praying but sensing a slight movement he opened his eyes also.
“Do you need anything else from me my child?” the Vicar asked with a serious face.
“No I think I’m going to go home and settle in for the night. I may come back tomorrow if I need to talk.” The Vicar had grasped the prayer book shelve to steady his balance.
“I’ll be here, I usually am.” The Vicar offered a compassionate smile knowing Beth was having a hard time with this. Women are generally more in touch with their intuition and Beth knew Matt was in trouble. What she did not know was what kind of trouble.
“Thanks for chatting with me, you’ve helped a lot. I might just get some sleep tonight. The alternative was hitting the Black Bull and drinking a skin full. That probably wouldn’t have been a good feeling in the morning.”
“No you need to stay sharp to deal with whatever comes your way. Just go home and have a large glass of water. That’ll be far better for you with all of this stress. Goodnight Beth.” The Vicar rose and proceeded to the front of the Church to resume his waiting chores.
Beth could still feel the damp trapped within her denim jeans. She stood and slowly walked away from the pulpit. It was an odd feeling. She could imagine doing this walk surrounded by relatives and friends. She would be smiling and graceful as she left the Church for her new life. She would not be wearing damp denim, sneakers and a rainproof jacket. Instead, she would wear a long white flowing chiffon gown carrying white roses and baby’s breath. She would have small flowers in her hair and her veil would be lifted back revealing her happy face.
It just felt odd. Matt was missing and she was daydreaming about being a bride. She shook her head as she ventured out into the cold night air. The rain had stopped and the wind had subsided. She could hear a faint noise coming from the Black Bull. Beth hurried past the doorway and proceeded with haste down the Main Street of Haworth. The rain had washed the street and the smell of dampness filled her nostrils.
Safely home, Beth changed into warm dry pajamas in record time. She completed her nightly safety check and slipped into her soft welcoming bed. “Come on Matt, be a man and show up; face the music if you can. Don’t put me through another day like this. If you’re in trouble then try to stay safe and come home in one piece. I love you Matt wherever you are tonight. Come home soon.” After the stress of the day Beth fell asleep quickly. That night she dreamed of her wedding day floating down the aisle of Haworth Church.
* * * * *
Chapter 6: Two Magicians
Upper Egypt, 3150 B.C.
It was the early hours of the morning and the blistering sun had not attempted to invade the dark sky. The stars shone brightly and the faint noise of squabbling jackals could be heard in the distance. A steady cool breeze blew into the sleeping chambers from the east. He was a powerful man who only feared the Gods. It was a certainty that he would join the Gods when he died but he still had work to do in this life.
The Greeks called them Pharaoh’s but the date was 3150 BC, well before the Greeks used that term. He was the King of Egypt. For thousands of years the Egyptians referred to their Kings as Nesu. Who was this man? It’s unclear with the passage of time and many incorrect interpretations. It was not uncommon for the Nesu to have several names. Today’s ancient Egyptian scholars disagree on his precise name. Some argue that many individuals from Egyptian lore are actually the same individual or composites from many individuals. In today’s modern world he would not be as famous as Tutankhamen, the boy King, but in his day he was everything.
Although he was a powerful Nesu he was a mortal and not one of the original Egyptian God Kings. Before time was recorded, Egypt had God Kings such as Ra, Horus, Kronos, and Osiris among others. They represented the sun, earth, sky, order, chaos and death. It’s unclear if these God Kings took human form. The God Kings existed in the legendary period of Egypt. Before there was an Egypt, people in the north and the south worshiped many leaders, Gods and Kings. As a Nesu, they would make the journey into the afterlife to join the God Kings. Nesu Kings are classified in the archaic period or the early dynastic.
When he rose to power he managed to galvanize a nation. It was a dream of many. It was never attained until this Nesu fought and achieved the dream - a unified Egypt. Great battles were waged and countless lives were lost in the attainment of this goal. Despite the bloodshed and political resistance he emerged victorious and conquered the north to forcefully and politically unite Egypt. He was all-powerful and had secured his seat at the throne of the greatest empire of this time.
A skilled politician Nesu Narmer instigated a unified political center of the new Egypt and located it in the city of Naqada. A stone tablet known as the Narmer Palette survives today. It is testament to the definitive victory of the south over the northern kingdoms. Nesu Narmer was represented in ancient hieroglyphs by the symbol of a Catfish. He became known as the Catfish King. J.E. Quibell in Hierakonpolis discovered the Narmer Palette in 1897-98. The Palette shows the Catfish King wearing both a white crown of Upper Egypt and a red crown of Lower Egypt. The Nesu thereafter wore a red crown as a symbol of a unified Egypt. The Narmer Macehead was also discovered in Hierakonpolis and shows Narmer’s marriage to his wife Nithotep, Queen of the north. Many scholars felt Narmer’s marriage was a masterstroke in political unification. It may have been convenient and politically astute but the general opinion was incorrect. Nesu Narmer loved his wife. He was besotted with her beauty the moment that he first saw her. Nithotep was considered the most beautiful creature in Egypt and a fitting Queen for the Nesu. She was initially scared but quickly realized that she respected and loved her Nesu deeply.
Until Jacques de Morgan excavated her tomb in 1896 virtually nothing was known about Nithotep. Nithotep is now known as the first Queen of a unified Egypt. Later in life she bore an heir and eventual successor Hor-Aha. Nithotep’s grave has been located within her tomb at Naqada. Her life is cemented in history thanks to an inscribed Ivory label found on the tomb.
* * * * *
Upper Egypt, 3150 B.C.
Nithotep lay silent listening to the distant jackals and her husband’s erratic breathing. The cool night air blowing into the bedchamber would soon change, as Egypt would wake to a boiling sun. Nithotep tried to remain still as her arm touched her husband’s body. She knew he loved her but she needed to produce a son, an heir. The longer it went the more threatened she felt. The Nesu was a powerful man. He had many suitors willing to give him an heir and take her position as Queen. Earlier the Nesu had suffered from a bad dream screaming and sitting upright in their bed. She had comforted him and stayed awake until he fell asleep. The Nesu had achieved so much but bore great responsibilities. He had a divine connection to the Gods. They often channeled messages through him as their connection to the mortal world. He was also responsible for bringing peace and prosperity to the land. He needed to maintain order or Ma’at of the land as the Egyptian’s referred to it. He needed to keep chaos out and repel boat people and foreign invaders.
The Nesu was acutely aware that it had been a dry season with crops starting to fail. If it continued the people would suspect that the Gods were angry at the unification of Egypt. He needed it to rain with a bountiful Nile flood bringing rich silt and much needed water. This would affirm his standing with the Gods and make the people happy. Morning came soon enough with Nithotep rising early to bathe. She left her Nesu to sleep after his restless night. She instructed the attendants not to wake the Nesu, as he needed rest. Nithotep was eating grapes and staring out over a parched courtyard. She noticed the attendants falling to their knees. Like soldiers in a losing fight, one after another, they fell to the ground, arms outstretched and palms facing the sky. The Nesu walked into the great room. Instantly attendants fell, not wanting to insult his status. Nithotep watched her Nesu carefully as he approached the table. He prepared an assortment of food. When their eyes met she respectfully bowed her head clasping her hands together.
“How is my Queen this morning?”
“I’m well. How is my Nesu?” she said smiling.
“I’m tired and hungry. The Gods came to me in my sleep last night. I’ll share with you their instructions after we eat.” The Queen nodded and continued to sample the grapes. The Nesu clapped twice and the attendants rose to go about their business. The Queen watched her Nesu closely and followed his eyes from the food to the attendants. The Nesu tried to disguise it but a woman’s intuition is strong. There is no stronger feeling than jealously and betrayal. She watched him cast his eyes forward and move across the many servants before him. Nithotep noticed something that most would not. He tried to be subtle but his eyes stayed a fraction longer on one servant of the royal court. She had suspicions but they needed to be confirmed.
Cleaning the floor at one end of the hall was a beautiful servant called Bener-ib. She was lean with long straight black hair and a golden body. She was shapely with attractive hips and a body that men would find irresistible. Her hips swayed when she walked and her long hair flowed down her back like a shining waterfall. When she moved, the Nesu’s eyes followed her as if in a trance. Careful not to stare he could not resist taking the opportunity to look at Bener-ib without turning his head. Bener-ib had a beautiful face with brown eyes and white teeth. Nithotep had seen her smile and instantly recognized the power she had over men. She was exceptionally pretty. In the royal palace Bener-ib had been careful not to make eye contact or smile. She did not want to draw unnecessary attention to herself or annoy the Queen.
Nithotep surrounded herself with a few close attendants. They had access to information and observed daily life within the palace. One evening an attendant informed Nithotep that the Nesu had developed a preference. The Nesu would specifically ask for Bener-ib when he would bathe. It was not uncommon for the Nesu to ask for a female to help him bathe. It was unusual to ask for the same attendant especially one so pretty. Bener-ib was younger than the Queen and her body reflected her strict palace duties. Her constant activity forged her body to be lean, taught, and fit. The Nesu’s eyes lingered on Bener-ib for less than a second. It was enough to convince Nithotep that the Nesu was interested. She decided in that moment that she would need to quickly produce an heir.
The Nesu would always have his choice of women. Nithotep did not like it but it was a fact she would be powerless to change. With a son she would ensure her status as Queen and her safety within the royal palace. As the Nesu rested his eyes on Bener-ib she reacted in a strange and dangerous way. She lifted her chin slightly to make direct eye contact with the Nesu. Bener-ib made a fatal error as she failed to notice the Queen staring right at her. She opened her mouth slightly and flashed a smile. The Nesu immediately looked away with his gaze falling upon a bowl of fruit. Bener-ib closed her eyes and lowered her chin seductively. Jealousy raised its ugly head like a dancing cobra. This act had incensed the Queen. She struggled to contain her rage at this insult and wanted to instruct the guards to kill Bener-ib immediately. She could feel the heat rising within her but managed to hide her displeasure. She had watched her Nesu deal with difficult situations and decided to emulate his traits. She remained calm and resisted the opportunity to do anything rash. She would need to think about her actions. She wanted a cool head and more time to devise a strategy.
The day unraveled with the Nesu leaving to inspect the progress of a building he had commissioned. The sun had risen to its highest point when the Nesu returned to the palace. It was another hot day without rain. Nithotep had devised a rigorous cleaning schedule far greater than the normal duties. She managed to assign light duties to each attendant. Bener-ib was assigned all of the undesirable tasks with a full schedule taking her well into the night. She was given clear instructions that the work needed to be completed before she retired to bed. Bener-ib would have no time to bathe the Nesu tonight.
When the Nesu returned he was agitated and annoyed. Nithotep assumed the progress on his building had faltered. Aya was a loyal servant to the Queen and was a trusted aide. She entered the courtyard and quickly located the Queen sitting in the shade. She approached in a direct fashion unusual for an aide. Aya stopped with her head bent and eyes looking at the ground. “My Queen I’m sorry for the intrusion but the Nesu is asking for you. It appears to be a matter of some importance.”
“Is he annoyed?”
“He’s raising his voice and wants to see you immediately.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s in the parchment room.”
“What’s he doing in the parchment room?”
“I don’t know but you must hurry.”
“I’ll go but are you sure he’s in the parchment room?”
“Yes now please hurry.”
The Queen was intelligent and this story seemed odd. The circumstances seemed suspicious but Nithotep trusted Aya. To be safe, the Queen left the courtyard and asked for two guards to accompany her to the parchment room. It was a long walk to the far end of the palace. She entered a wing of the palace where her Nesu never ventured. As she approached the parchment room she ordered the guards to position themselves, one at the front and one to the rear. She cautiously approached the room through a long thin corridor made from stone. She could see the bright shaft of light bursting through the doorway ahead. The light reflected on the bronzed muscular shoulders of the guard in front of her. The guard stopped at the entrance and immediately fell to his knees at the sight of the Nesu. The guard behind the Queen also fell. The Queen had a clear view into the parchment room. The parchment room was located to the rear of the palace and contained many records of texts, inventories and fables. The room was oval shaped with parchments rolled into scrolls and stored in alcoves around the walls. In the center of the oval was a large wooden table inlaid with designs of animals. The Nesu was seated in a large wooden chair facing the door. When he saw Nithotep he pushed his weight from the chair and walked towards the door. Looking down at the men he lightly tapped the front guard with his foot.
“You, go now.”
The guard rose to his feet bowed and scurried away quickly. The Nesu walked passed Nithotep and approached the second guard.
“You, stand now.” The guard stood immediately to attention keeping his eyes in a downward stare. “Turn and walk fifteen paces from the door. I want you to guard the passage and not let anyone or anything pass you. You will remain there until we both emerge. If you fail in your duties I will ensure your body parts are fed to the jackals. Walk now.” The guard carried out the Nesu’s orders. He faced away from the door standing motionless like a stone statue. The Nesu turned to his Queen and gestured for her to enter the parchment room. It was cool and smelled musty. As she entered the room she heard the wooden bolt slide across the face of the door behind her. Nesu Narmer walked to the center table. “Sit please.”
“What troubles you my Nesu to bring me to this remote part of the palace?”
“Forgive me my Queen but I wanted to be safe from prying eyes and curious ears.”
The Queen sat in a chair facing her Nesu. “Have I displeased you in any way?”
“No I am most pleased with my Queen. I do owe you an explanation. I need to tell you about my dreams. The Gods have talked to me and I need to ask for your assistance in an important matter.” This was the first time Nesu Narmer had asked Nithotep for help in any way and she felt a rush of excitement coupled with a strong curiosity.
“I will assist in any way that I can.”
“Good I need to start at the beginning.”
It was early evening and the sun was setting when they emerged from the parchment room. The guard remained fixed to his spot. The Nesu approached the guard instructing him to escort the Queen back to her chambers. The Nesu walked methodically to the great hall of dreams. He summoned Amman and Bes both strong leaders of high rank within the royal guard. The Nesu spent time outlining detailed instructions to both Amman and Bes. That night preparations were made in the guardhouse to select four of the most talented guards. They would form two teams. Each team armed with specific instructions left the palace carrying supplies under the cover of darkness. One group headed towards the north. The other group marched south.
Later that night the Nesu returned to his bedchambers where Nithotep had food prepared for the Nesu. He rested on their bed. She knew he had not eaten since the morning. “Eat, you need to remain strong.”
“I would like to offer gratitude towards my Queen for looking after me. I will need your assistance with these important artifacts.” He gently placed two small gold boxes at the foot of the bed. He could see Nithotep looking at the boxes and wondering what they were. The boxes were of similar size and shape, each with a gold clasp securing a lid. The boxes looked similar but were different in their designs. “I will explain in good time.” He walked over to the table piled high with food and began to eat. As the night wore on, Nesu Narmer revealed to his Queen what was in each box. He explained how important these items were to Egypt and the entire mortal world. He explained what he needed his Queen to do and how she would help him. He placed the boxes on a small table next to their bed and succumbed to his fatigue. Nesu Narmer placed his head upon his wooden neck stand and drifted into sleep. Nithotep could not sleep, she felt disturbed and uneasy. Nesu Narmer had shared with her his dreams, secrets and a direct request for help. Later that night she heard an unusual sound breaking through the normal night music of the desert. It was a small sound but different enough to enter her consciousness. She rose carefully trying not to disturb her Nesu. She walked towards the balcony passing through flowing sheers. Within seconds she instantly knew. She matched the sound with the spots appearing on the dry stone floor. It was starting to rain! She turned and ran towards her Nesu. “Wake up it’s raining, it’s raining.”
The Nesu was dazed but once the words registered he ran to the open balcony to experience the cool drops falling onto his face. A broad smile broke across his face and he embraced his Queen with a passionate kiss. “The Gods are pleased.”
That night the rains were plentiful bringing much needed relief to the region. The rain continued for several days and the people were happy to support their Nesu. They ran out onto the streets chanting his name.
* * * * *
It was sixteen moons since Amman and two guards had left the palace. They traveled north to find a person known as Ka. It was mid day and the sun was bright and high in the sky. The men were tired and hot from the burning heat. They approached a stone dwelling with a small wooden door. They banged on the door shouting their presence by order of the Nesu. An old withered man pushed the door open and shielded his eyes from the bright light. Dressed in simple clothes he was quickly pushed aside by Amman. “Where is he? Where’s the great Ka?”
Each soldier wore a leather armband decorated with the gold symbols of the Catfish King. “What do three soldiers from the royal palace guard want with Ka?”
Amman pulled his knife from its sheath. He quickly snapped it under the chin of the old man in one fluid move. “The Catfish King, Nesu Narmer himself needs to speak with Ka. We will kill you if you don’t tell us where Ka is.” The blade was pressed firmly across the throat of the old man causing a red welt to form under the pressure. The other guards continued their search for Ka through each room of the small house. “Where is he old man?”
“What does the Catfish King want with Ka?” the man repeated.
“The Nesu wants to talk with Ka. It’s an urgent matter that could affect us all. It’s important to Egypt. That’s all I know but I’ve been sent to find him. It’s very important. We’ve been told that Ka is the greatest Magician in northern Egypt.”
“I heard he’s the greatest Magician in all of Egypt.” The word Egypt was muffled as Amman rammed the blade tighter into the throat of the old man. Amman gripped the handle but a burning sensation shot its way from his hand to his brain. He dropped the knife quickly as his hand burned. His palm started to blister from the heat. Amman let out a cry alerting the other guards. They turned in time to see the knife fall blade first. The knife came to rest on the stone floor with Amman clutching his burned hand. He moaned in pain from the intense heat.
The knife lay motionless in the center of the small room. It drew the guard’s attention as it started to emit a small hissing noise. The black and gold colored knife transformed before their eyes into a striped snake hissing and slithering across the cold stone tiles. The snake slithered quickly towards the open door. The guards stood in silence as the old man straightened his crooked back and grew visibly. He looked younger and more threatening. He moved towards Amman and stared deep into his eyes. “Why does the Catfish King summon Ka?”
Amman gripped his wrist. He was frightened to touch the painful weeping sores on his palm. “I don’t know. He said our lives would be over if we failed to bring Ka to the palace. He threatened to kill our families.”
The old man extended his hand. He rubbed his hand across Amman’s sore, blistered palm. Water ran from the blisters splashing onto the floor. Amman felt his hand cool instantly. His blistered skin had repaired. He looked at his hand in amazement finally realizing who the old man was. “Will you come with us to the palace to meet the Catfish King?”
“I’m intrigued. I will go with you to the palace but understand I’m going willingly. I’m curious that the Nesu requires my presence. I’m not committing to help the Nesu. I merely want to understand what he wants from me.”
The journey back to the palace would not take as long. Many days were wasted asking questions and eliminating false leads. The search for Ka was not an easy one. People knew of his great powers and were afraid to assist the guards. The journey back to the palace would be more direct. The guards would expect to receive assistance along the way. Food, water and supplies would be given freely when people recognized them as royal palace guards.
* * * * *
Bes had been given a different assignment to Amman. In many respects his assignment appeared simpler. He was instructed to direct his team to the south. He needed to locate a valley with a small hill palace. Local stories told of a small palace made from dark stone. This palace had no guards protecting it. Villagers would often walk the stony path leading to the palace. They would leave food at a halfway point. The village was prosperous with residents living in harmony. The greatest Magician in the south was a malevolent soul who lived a private life. The villagers provided food and water while the Magician provided safety, harmony and good fortune. It was a symbiotic relationship. The villagers worshipped the Nesu but they respected the Magician of the south.
Legend has it that the great Magician of the north once demanded an audience. A competition was orchestrated to see who the most powerful Magician in the land was. After many days of inclement weather the sky grew dark and the winds rose sharply from the east. Lightning could be seen in the skies and something occurred that has been questioned ever since. No one is left in the village old enough to recall that day. Many feel the story has been embellished over the years for effect. For two moons the heavens opened and a strange white cold dust fell from the sky settling on the ground. The dust was wet and the people were scared. Many said the Magician from the south had lost the challenge and had exploded in the sky. Millions of pieces of the Magician’s soul were now falling back to earth. She would never make the final glorious journey to the underworld.
The villager’s fears were unsubstantiated as the Magician of the south defeated the Magician of the north. Many still talk of the legend of the white dust believing it to be true. The story is too old to be substantiated but many believe the story their ancestors told them. Carvings on the walls of the village temple depict the scene. Today the villagers still take food to the halfway point. Some boasted that they have passed the halfway point. Some have continued on through curiosity, many through ignorance. At the top of the path lies a black, gnarled and twisted tree stump. The legend states that the tree is all that remains of the Magician of the north. A few of the villagers have seen the tree stump from a distance but they feared to come closer. The tree stump is positioned at the front entrance of the palace. It is well beyond the halfway point. Indescribable torture will happen to people caught past the halfway point. What the villagers lacked in information they simply made up. The details of the torture came from the figments of the darkest corners of their imagination.
The Magician of the south was considered the most powerful and oldest Magician in the land. Little was known about the Magician’s age, appearance or powers. One story endures above all others as the most repeated story in village folklore. The story describes the fate of a village elder severely injured by an alligator. Villagers left the injured man at the halfway point with the usual offerings of food. Several moons later the man walked into the village completely healed. He had no recollection of the past few days. A woman gave birth to a horribly deformed baby girl with a severe cleft lip. Villagers wanted to kill the girl; she was an omen of misfortune. The villagers believed the Gods were displeased. In desperation the distraught Mother decided to take the baby girl to the Magician. A desperate Mother risked her own life by leaving the child, wrapped in only a simple blanket, at the base of the shriveled tree stump. Three months later the child was returned. Still wrapped in the same blanket, she was fully healed and reunited with her grateful Mother. The Magician and the villagers had an agreement that lasted through generations. Nesu Narmer was from the south; he had heard of the great Magician known as En. En was famous, feared and respected.
Through small clay tablets a message had been sent to the En. Nesu Narmer’s favorite Falcon had injured its wing. It was the fault of the Catfish King and he had never felt such remorse. He immediately requested the Magician’s help. This was the first and only time the great Nesu had asked for the Magician’s help. The Magician spoke to a young woman of the village through her dreams. She was scared and confused but she was compelled to approach the palace. She climbed the steep path to the palace entrance; she climbed the hill cautiously. Believing in her dream she passed the halfway point and approached the blackened tree stump. She froze as she saw the twisted knots deep within the wood. The wood resembled the tortured faces of vanquished foe. At the base of the tree was a wicker basket containing strips of linen. The lined was soaked in a strong smelling ointment. From her dream she knew she must take this basket to the royal palace and deliver it to Nesu Narmer. Against her husband’s wishes she approached the royal guard and explained her dream.
She was granted a private audience with Nesu Narmer. She once again explained her dream and delivered the basket. She informed the Nesu of the Magician’s instructions. Specific instructions were conveyed for the use of the medicated bandages. The Nesu’s bird handlers followed the strict and complicated regime described. Within a month the Falcon was flying using the fully healed wing. The Nesu decided to do two things. He sent a message thanking the Magician. He promised the Magician to never interfere with her tranquil existence. He also rewarded the woman handsomely for having the courage to ask for an audience.
In back alleys and darkened rooms people would gather in the village and discuss a story that would not seem to go away. It was an old story that was not to be repeated. Village elders would punish anyone discussing and passing down this story. Many believed it to be true. One of the Egyptian Gods strayed one day and came across a mortal bathing in the Nile. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The story tells of a brief encounter where the woman fell under the charms of the God and they produced twin girls. The girls looked like their Mother but had the power of their Father. Fearful that mortals would discover their powers their Mother raised the girls in a remote part of southern Egypt. Watched over by the Gods the girls grew to be beautiful young women. They could cast a spell over any man with their beauty alone.
Stories from their remote childhood village recount the powers the twin girls had. They could talk with each other across great distances without using words. The most controversial claim was their ability to swap powers. Was this true or just an embellishment of a good story to make it even better? Observations from the villagers suggested that one of the girls was mortal and one had special powers. Each girl seemed physically identical in everyway. It seemed that only one girl could have the special powers. Based upon need they seemed to have the ability to transfer the powers between them. The story starts to get interesting if you choose to believe the jealous elders of the village. They would observe the girls and occasionally test them. They were fearful they had Gods living among them. On a cool evening a group of men attacked one of the twins. She ran to a bowl of water submerging her hands rather than defending her self. As soon as her hands touched the water her attackers fell into large piles of sand.
The elders realized that water was the key. The Mother of the twins first encountered their Father while bathing in water. Water was the conduit required for the twins to exchange their powers. An angry mob from the village turned upon the Mother killing her in a brutal fashion. The twin girls flooded the valley in a fit of rage and revenge. The flood eradicated the village; killing most that lived there. The girls needed a new home and settled in a small village in southern Egypt. Through the delivery of good deeds the twins struck a happy balance with the village elders. The villagers were commissioned to build a palace upon the hill. The twins moved into the palace and were never seen in public again. Many believe their Father was a God. He would come to visit them and it is said that he enjoyed the palace greatly. Many villagers still believe he uses the palace today as his home in the mortal world. The latest musings from the secret societies describe the great Magician of the south as one of the old Gods. Over time the legend of the Magician known as En has grown. Today the Magician is known as the greatest Magician of the south.
The Nesu had never bothered En since his promise, so the request for help came as a surprise. He needed to keep up appearances and dispatched a group of guards to bring the Magician to the palace. Nesu Narmer informed Bes that his group would have different instructions. He would not be able to see the powerful Magician. En could turn them all to stone at will; so force was not an option. They would need to travel to the palace on the hill. They would have to go to the black tree stump and request a meeting by talking to the tree. The Magician would entrust Bes with a powerful and important gift. He must bring this gift back to the royal palace for the Nesu. It would be too dangerous for the Magician to travel back to the royal palace. Their task would be to simply bring the gift back to the palace.
Bes accepted his Nesu’s assignment. With fear bubbling in his heart, his group left under the cover of darkness. Two moons later, against the villagers’ recommendations, he found himself facing the black twisted tree stump. He had instructed his fellow guards to wait at the halfway point. He looked at the twisted tortured faces etched in the grain of the dark wood. He was aware of the legendary challenge from the Magician of the north.
“I’ve been sent by Nesu Narmer. I come in peace and request that you listen to my message.” Bes shouted at the tree. To his left was a large wooden door but his instructions were to talk to the tree. The door started to open and he was unsure of the best course of action. Bes fell to his knees with his head bowed. He lifted his eyes slightly and could see a figure walking towards him. In the few brief seconds allowed his eyes saw a small figure dressed in a long blue robe. A hood was hiding the figure’s head and face. “Keep your eyes down as a mark of respect,” he thought.
The figure approached quickly and bent to the floor. Raising his eyes slightly he could see an object in front of him. The figure turned without speaking and retreated back to the palace. Bes pushed his heavy frame from his knees and fell forwards towards the object. The object was a small Golden box, no bigger than his fist. A lid with a small clasp sealed it. Bes was curious and wanted to see what was inside. He knew he must not open it. He was petrified about the ramifications of opening the box. Perhaps he would turn into a black twisted tree stump? He decided not to betray his Nesu and the Magician’s trust. He grabbed the small heavy box and rejoined the guards at the halfway point. Curious, the guards asked for details of his encounter. They were disappointed with the description of events that Bes relayed. Fearing he was hiding the truth his fellow guards probed for details about their exchange. Throughout the journey back to the palace Bes guarded the Golden box with his life.
* * * * *
Chapter 7: The Jewelry Maker
Upper Egypt, 3150 B.C.
The Nesu had started his day early leaving his Queen sleeping. It was highly unusual for him to rise first. This was usually a sign of a restless night but he had slept soundly. He had risen to consult with an old sage and trusted advisor. The servants noticed he looked pensive and in no mood for delays. This message rippled through the ranks like an out of control wildfire. The Nesu was pleased that the steady rain was helping to lift the mood of the nation.
The Queen was now fully aware of the serious nature of her Nesu’s duties. She knew he would be tired and irritable. They had talked until late which may explain why she had not heard him leave. The Nesu had left Queen Nithotep detailed instructions for the day’s events. She recognized that he had trusted her completely. It was the first time that she was trusted with important details. He had given her information in the past but it was always vague and lacked specifics. She was unsure if he felt she would not understand. Perhaps knowledge of such information would place her in danger. Perhaps he did not trust her. She was always unsure and it was unsettling. Today she felt compelled to deliver upon the promises she had made. She needed to repay his faith in her. She would rather face death than let him down.
When Nithotep was a young girl her Mother called her into her quarters. She was always allowed to play games with the palace children. That day was unusual; she was called in far too early. She recalled feeling angry with her Mother for cutting short her playtime. She had earned this time by completing her daily studies. She ran into her Mother’s quarters. She saw three soldiers and a priest getting ready to leave. Nithotep’s Mother looked distraught and upset. What had these men done? Her Mother grabbed her and hugged her tight, sobbing uncontrollably. She learned later that her Father, Nesu of the north had fallen in a hunting accident. Nithotep’s life would change immediately. She was now Queen of the north, ruler of northern Egypt. Her Mother knew that she would be vulnerable. She surrounded Nithotep with advisors and aides. This tight knit group would serve her well and protect the palace of the north. As time passed the number of significant threats increased. The north looked vulnerable to a military invasion. Nithotep was no warrior and it would be difficult for her to inspire her country through war. The boat people were threatening and the south grew powerful under a young charismatic Nesu.
Nithotep’s Mother consulted with her advisors and they suggested a daring plan. Nithotep was now a beautiful young woman. She had been shielded from the advances of men. Her Mother knew that feelings were stirring deep within her Daughter. She had seen the fleeting glances towards some of the ruggedly handsome soldiers. Her crafty Mother arranged a royal visit to promote trade and commerce. She arranged a visit to the south of Egypt to meet the boy Nesu. A large contingent of politicians, generals and tradesmen accompanied the royal visit. This added to the air of officialdom. The hidden agenda was to flaunt Nithotep’s beauty in front of the boy Nesu. He would not be able to resist. A marriage of convenience would be a palatable solution to a growing threat.
Nithotep’s Mother stressed the importance of trading across territories. She talked about the sustainment of prosperity for the north. She did not mention an arranged marriage to Nithotep. She would just let human nature work through those details. It was the fateful morning that Nithotep was to meet the boy Nesu. Her Mother had primed her on the importance of the trade mission. To make this a success she was not to talk trade. Her part of the mission was to complete a royal visit. A trade mission would be deemed more important if it involved royalty. Nithotep had to look her best; she would be representing the north of Egypt.
Nithotep was bathed in sweet smelling oils. She was adorned in the finest fabrics. She was conservatively dressed, leaving lots to the imagination. Her hair was brushed and decorated with brightly colored flowers. She wore decorated sandals and a gold belt. Her eyes were accentuated with black liner. She was covered in the finest jewelry. She was irresistible and the stage had been set. The boy Nesu and the Queen of the north were introduced and the energy flowed. They fell in love the moment they saw each other. They met many times after that and talked for hours sharing their life’s experiences and their dreams. Nithotep’s Mother smiled when they met. The boy Nesu could not keep his eyes away from Nithotep’s beautiful face. To have her Daughter fall in love was a welcome bonus. She glanced at the boy Nesu’s chief advisor. Amman knew the game being played. Amman watched the pair interact and slid his eyes towards Nithotep’s Mother. He smiled knowingly. He had to concede this one. He would be unable to advise his Nesu to move in a different direction. The more he thought through an alliance the more it made sense. He could see it, both north and south in a unified Egypt. He just smiled knowingly.
At first Nithotep was scared of the boy Nesu. He had so much power and was regarded as a God, placed here in the mortal realm. So many stories circulated about this young man. Many were propaganda; cleverly constructed to form an image. At every opportunity, the boy Nesu would sneak a look at Nithotep. Their union was simply a matter of time.
* * * * *
Upper Egypt, 3150 B.C.
Nithotep maintained an air of normalcy as that fateful morning unfolded. She followed her usual morning routine meticulously. She was determined not to raise the suspicion of the royal palace staff. When she dispatched the daily duties she made a point of assigning Bener-ib the lightest duties. Bener-ib looked confused and wondered if the Queen was trying to send a message. The palace resumed its normal activities. Nithotep asked Aya to come to her quarters.
Aya approached with a growing feeling of doubt swirling around in her stomach. She replayed the previous days in her head; she searched for mistakes or inappropriate comments. Looking for an explanation, she thought about her most recent conversations with the Queen. What had she done wrong? She thought she had a good relationship with Nithotep but this morning’s events did not feel right. Nithotep was always the Queen and she maintained a distance. She never really shared her feelings with her aides. She was a private person and never shared any information about the Nesu. She knew the dangers and took her position seriously. Occasionally when she was in a playful mood she would joke with Aya, but it was always on her terms and it would only go so far. That morning Nithotep appeared normal in every way. Aya had many occasions to observe Nithotep’s behavioral patterns. She would know if she were happy, sad, moody or hurt. Aya had years of observational history to formulate her opinion. She had learned to recognize subtle cues, giveaways that indicate stress, displeasure, joy and sadness. A woman of Aya’s standing is often expected to be present but not heard. Under these conditions observing the slightest nuance is a form of mental stimulation. Nithotep had been highly efficient in her morning routine but she had a cold air about her. This usually meant that she was plotting to do something. One significant change to the morning routine had not escaped the diligent Aya. When Nithotep dispatched the daily tasks, Aya had paid attention. Nithotep had allocated tasks to the staff efficiently loading them with a full day’s work schedule. Bener-ib had managed to leave with only a few desirable tasks. She had effectively given Bener-ib the day off. Why had the Queen decided to do this? This surprised Aya, especially after watching her struggle to contain her feelings of hatred the day before. Perhaps the Queen had planned an approached, to exact her revenge. Yes that had to be it. The cunning Queen had orchestrated a light day for Bener-ib so she could administer punishment, when it suited her most. Aya had concluded the imminent conversation must relate to the planning of revenge. She would get to hear specific details requiring her immediate attention to help the Queen. Aya smiled as she thought about the prospect of Bener-ib feeling the wrath of the Queen – she deserved it. No woman should disrespect the Queen that way, no matter how beautiful you are. Beauty in a woman always means power; in this situation the Queen will always win.
If Aya were truthful, she would have to admit a strong feeling of jealousy towards Bener-ib’s beauty. She saw the admiring glances received from the palace guards. Men always tried to be subtle and hide their stares, but they were so predictable. Even women would look at her, studying her features in a different way. Aya was looking forward to hearing what the Queen had planned. She would execute her part of this plan with extreme efficiency, discreetness and pleasure.
Aya walked through a large greeting room and entered the Queen’s quarters. She walked between two large male guards, stationed either side of a grand marble entrance. As predicted the guards moved their eyes and followed Aya’s swaying body. Aya smiled knowing men were truly the weaker of the sexes. Maintaining the forward direction of her cold stare, she scanned the room to find the Queen. Nithotep was outside on the balcony. Each morning a black bird with long skinny legs and a long feathered tail would appear on her balcony. He had wide feet and looked gangly. He had bright yellow eyes and black pupils. He was not like the rest; he was fearless. He would show caution but would approach further than the rest. He would always return to the balcony first after being spooked. Eventually he grew to trust Nithotep; he would come looking for bread and fruit. She would feed him and looked forward to his visit. Many felt this was a bad omen but Nithotep dismissed this as superstition. She gave him the last piece of bread and turned to go inside. Nithotep appeared from the balcony, her left arm extended as she brushed the sheers. The sheers provided a flimsy barrier between the balcony and her indoor quarters. She walked over to a small desk and pulled out a chair. The Queen was efficient and barely stopped to acknowledge Aya.
The desk supported a vase. It was made from brown pottery and held a vibrant bouquet of freshly gathered blue lotus flowers. The flower’s intense fragrance scented the room. The blue flowers had pointed petals, fanned like a wide saucer. Green stems with large disc-like leaves supported the beautiful flowers. Aya stood motionless, her head was down and her arms were at her side. Her palms were exposed, because she had positioned them to face forward. The Queen demanded her eyes face downwards and her arms were visible with palms open. With this approach, the Queen could assess the likelihood of any weapon carried by the hands. It was the known protocol for greeting the Queen. This protocol was only extended to her inner most trusted servants. Strangers had more severe measures. Aya felt awkward; something did not feel right. She assumed the Queen was still upset with Bener-ib.
The Queen held a delicate chair made from wood and reeds. She motioned for Aya to sit. “Sit, please. I need you to do something important for me.”
Aya moved towards the chair. She sat, allowing the corners of her mouth to curl upwards at the edges. “Here it comes, my clever Queen is about to give Bener-ib what she deserves,” thought Aya.
“You know I trust you Aya,” said Nithotep resting a hand on Aya’s left shoulder. “You’ve been a loyal servant and I appreciate that. Now I need to ask you to do something for me. You must follow my instructions but you must never talk about my request. It never occurred. You could leak this request through idle discussion or a momentary lapse in concentration. If this information escapes from your mouth, you will leave me with only one course of action. Do you understand what I’m saying or do I need to make my words clearer?” Nithotep did something that she had never done within the ten years Aya had served her. Nithotep circled the chair until she was standing in front of Aya. She reached forward and grabbed Aya’s chin, tilting her face upwards. The Queen leaned inwards placing her pretty face inches from Aya’s. Her long black hair fell forwards providing a dark frame for her beautiful face. Her brown eyes widened as she watched Aya struggling to avoid direct eye contact. When Aya averted her eyes the Queen would adjust her chin. It made it impossible not to look straight into her piercing stare. Aya had to look directly into the Queen’s hypnotic brown eyes. Aya could see the determination etched in her Queen’s face.
She struggled to move her face. The Queen gripped her chin with her strong hand. Aya managed to signal her compliance by shaking her head. The Queen did not need to make it clearer to Aya. She would die if she betrayed her trust. The Queen broke her stare and released Aya’s chin.
“Good, now that we understand each other, I would like you to go to the market immediately. I don’t want you to tell anyone, why you’re leaving the palace. You need to talk with Seth, the jewelry maker to the Nesu. I need you to bring Seth to the palace immediately. The Nesu has requested that Seth meet with me; it’s a matter of great importance. Do you understand?”
“Yes my Queen,” said Aya understanding nothing. Thoughts raced through Aya’s mind. “The revenge plan involves talking to the jewelry maker? Perhaps the plan is cunning and intricate. My Queen is clever; she will only tell me what I need to know. I need to do this and perhaps she will say more. Perhaps then the plan will reveal itself.”
“Good, you can leave now; we have no time to waste. Tell Seth that it’s very important, the Nesu himself has sent for him. He’s to come to the palace immediately and ask for me.” Aya was walking to the door as the Queen completed her instructions. She hurried away feeling the sense of importance and urgency. The Queen did not have to remind Aya the protocol for leaving the royal palace.
Aya walked to the guardhouse and asked for an away escort, “On Nesu’s orders.” The guard chief asked Aya where she would be going. Understanding the dangers associated with the market, he assigned her two royal guards.
It was three hours later; the sun had started to gallop across the morning sky. Nithotep had left instructions to show Seth the jeweler to a specific room. Seth felt uncomfortable. He had entered an inner sanctum reserved exclusively for females. Aya presented Seth to the Queen; he displayed a puzzled look upon his face. Aya felt conflicted. Should she advise the Queen to move the location of the meeting? It looked suspicious. It would anger the Nesu if the Queen were to meet a man in the women’s quarters. Perhaps this was the Queen’s way of revenge; it was dangerous to have a liaison with Seth. She would be better exacting her revenge on Bener-ib. It looked like she was exacting revenge directly upon the Nesu. Nithotep spotted the puzzled look upon Aya’s face.
Aya glanced at the Queen and recognized her gesture. She was to leave immediately. As she turned, she thought this whole affair looked odd. The Queen was dressed conservatively. This was not the way a temptress would entice a man. Aya left shaking her head as she retreated. Seth was a middle-aged man with unattractive features. The Queen is beautiful; she would be able to have her pick from the royal guard. She could have a dalliance with a handsome virile man. This would make the Nesu’s fist clench with a fit of uncontrollable jealousy. Yet she chooses to court Seth? Another shake of her head and Aya was gone.
“Seth, please approach me, we’ve much to discuss.” Seth moved forward, nervously sitting upon a bench next to a small table. He looked across the table where a gold box was neatly placed. “Our Nesu needs you to do something and he’s asked me to convey his wishes to you directly. Listen carefully; I will only convey these instructions to you once.” Nithotep leaned forward and gently pushed the gold box towards Seth. Seth looked at the Queen unsure of his next response. He could see a small clasp on the front of the box holding a lid firmly in place. His puzzled look prompted the Queen to speak. “Open it carefully.”
Seth leaned in placing both elbows on the table. He held the small gold box in his left hand. It was old, heavy and the workmanship was average. The clasp was solid and he managed to pry it open with his thumb and forefinger. When Seth peered into the box he was disappointed at first. Two small dark fragments lay within. He tilted the box and flipped the contents into the palm of his hand. As he examined the fragments carefully his curiosity got the better of him. “What are they?”
The Queen smiled knowing the answer. She would never tell him but she anticipated him asking. “It’s a rare stone, the likes of which you will never see again.”
“I’ve seen the stones that fall in the desert; gifts from the night sky.” Children would search for the unusual stones and bring them to the palace. They would exchange for food. “Occasionally the Nesu will ask me to polish them and mount them within a piece of jewelry. I’ve studied these stones closely but these are different, very different.” Seth held the pieces. He moved them to within an inch of his trained eyes. He used his small lean fingers to examine the stones. He could feel one side of the stone was smooth and rounded. The other seemed rough and ridged. He examined the stones; during the action of turning them he dropped them onto the table. One of the stones fell to the left, the other to the right. The hard stones bounced upon the surface of the table and came to an abrupt stop. Seth looked at the Queen in horror fearing a sharp show of displeasure. The Queen sat relaxed as she watched the fragments settle. As they lay on the table Seth noticed something strange. It became evident that the fragments aligned. Seth pushed the two halves together. The stones matched exactly along a break now forming a hooked shape. The assembled pieces resembled a claw but they were hard and formed from rock.
The Queen watched Seth puzzle over the stones and decided to end his deliberations. “The Nesu has specific instructions for you Seth. You are to take this old box and melt it down for the gold. He wants you to craft two identical rings made from this gold.” She pointed to the open box. “The Nesu has asked for you to add his name to each side of the ring with the Catfish symbol on the left and the Chisel symbol on the right. He wants you to grind and polish the stones into an oval setting. A solid mounting should secure the polished stones. The rings have to be identical. You must work night and day, as the rings need to be made as soon as you can. The Nesu is expecting them and he will not wait long. I have to give you some final instructions. You must never make rings like these ever again. You must never mention the rings or let anyone see them. Do you understand Seth?”
“I do. Should I return the completed rings to you or my Nesu?”
“You can return them to me directly. I will inform the Nesu as soon as you’ve completed your task. You must hurry but the quality has to be high. Seth, these are important rings. You cannot begin to understand how important they will become. You must make them to withstand the ravages of time. They must be solid and durable. You must make them to last, nothing too intricate.”
Seth listened intently and was armed with enough information to proceed. “I understand; I’ll start immediately. I’ll use the workshop within the palace. It’ll take me some time but I’ll have them ready as soon as I can.”
“The Nesu will be pleased Seth. I’ll arrange for food and drink to be available for you. High quality and durable, that’s what he’s expecting.”
“Yes my Queen.”
Seth placed the broken fragments into the gold box and asked for permission to leave. He left the Queen’s quarters with the box in his hand and ring designs filling his imagination. Nithotep watched Seth leave allowing a smile to form. She had managed to set the plan in motion. Her Nesu would return and be pleased with her actions. She would not disappoint him; she had repaid his faith in her. Nithotep leaned backwards and allowed a deep breath to exhale from her body. She felt calm as if the burden of a wriggling snake had been passed to another. She trusted Seth; he would work diligently and produce the rings as requested.
The Nesu returned in a better mood. He inquired about the tasks left with Nithotep. She had pleased him with her efficiency. The guards prevented access to the workshop, restricting the normal flow of workers to approved individuals. Seth toiled away relentlessly stopping only for food and water. Occasionally he would break for a few hours of sleep. He acted like a man possessed. He could not sustain this pace and started to look run down. He pushed himself hard knowing the importance of the rings. The unusual nature of request meant that they must be very important rings. The Queen ensured he was given the finest food as sustenance to keep him going. The heat from the smelting process was intense. Seth was glad to complete this part of the process.
The grinding of the stones into two oval settings proved problematic. The stone was exceptionally hard and difficult to shape. Seth’s eyes were growing tired and strained but he was driven to complete the rings. It was many days later before Seth demanded to see the Queen. Seth had worked each day and most of the nights. He looked tired and drawn. Despite his tired face he had a glow of excitement and pride within his eyes. Seth had a brown colored cloth scrunched within his hands. He unfolded the cloth and placed the rings carefully upon the table. The Queen looked at the bright shining gold rings. The rings were perfect. They appeared solid and masculine. They were decorated with the raised images of the Catfish and the Chisel; symbolizing the markings of the Nesu. The stones were deeply set and formed in a perfect oval. The smooth side had been polished. The dark rock now appeared grey with small black stripes. Nithotep retrieved one of the rings to perform a closer inspection. She liked what she saw. “Nesu Narmer will be pleased. You’ve done well Seth. He’ll like these.”
Seth smiled in relief. He was tired but proud. The rings were of exceptional quality and he had managed to produce them quickly. The rings looked identical. Later that evening, Nithotep presented the Nesu with the rings for inspection. He was pleased but looked nervous. The rings could not have arrived at a better time. Both teams of guards were expected to arrive at the palace by mid-morning of the next day. Runners had informed the palace of their impending arrival. The Nesu would receive them and begin the next part of his divine plan. He leaned forward and kissed Nithotep gently on her forehead. “You’ve done well. Seth’s done well. Tonight we should sleep, for we both have an important day tomorrow.” Nithotep smiled knowing she had relieved her Nesu of his most pressing burden.
They prepared for bed resting their heads on wooden neck supports. Nithotep had handled the important assignments with ease. The rings had now been delivered and the Nesu seemed pleased. She had done well. It seemed as if a weight had been lifted from her. She now felt tired and relieved. It was not long before she fell deeply asleep. It was still late when Nithotep opened her eyes to rest them on the familiar shape of her husband. An empty space greeted her half open eyes. It was an important day tomorrow and she knew her husband was worried. Was he doing the right thing? What were the consequences if he had chosen foolishly? She needed to support his decision. He was breaking with tradition but times were changing rapidly. It left him with no choice but to implicitly trust mortals. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and rose to her feet. The evening air was hot as she walked naked through the limp sheers onto the stone balcony. She could see his troubled silhouette leaning on the balcony railing. The light from the moon illuminated it. She walked up to him from behind. He had heard her but did not turn to see her approach.
She said nothing; she pressed her warm body against his. She ran her hand from his right shoulder across his back and let it rest high on his left shoulder.
“Can’t sleep?” she said in a soothing voice.
“No. I’m punishing myself over this. Am I doing the right thing? I feel that I am.” He continued to stare out into the darkness.
“If you feel that you are, then you must be doing the right thing,” she said in an assuring tone. She kissed his ear lobe and snuggled into his neck.
“My sweet Nithotep, you know things have changed since the first Nesu. It’s a more dangerous time now. People are always trying to kill us, no matter what we do for them. We have to be diligent at all times. You know this. I can’t afford anything to happen to us. I have to be prudent and make alternate arrangements. I have to put my trust in mortals. Do you know how this makes me feel? So you ask if I can sleep.”
“I know that you are tight and full of restless energy. You resemble a coiled snake about to strike. My dear Nesu…” she stopped to consider her next words carefully. She had to show support, she had to show compassion. Nithotep pressed her cheek against his left shoulder blade hugging him tightly. “I might not trust all mortals but I do trust you. You’ll make the right decision. The Gods put you in this position and they’ll appreciate your actions. You have a big day tomorrow. You don’t want to make any mistakes due to fatigue. Come back to bed, you’ll never sleep if you continue to worry about the right course of action. You need some rest my Nesu.”
She dropped her hand and pulled his forearm backwards. She ran her hand down his arm to link with his hand. She pulled at it gently asking him to turn and come back to bed. They walked silently back to the bed and resumed their sleeping positions. It did take a while but the Nesu finally calmed his mind and fell asleep. Nithotep refused to sleep until she was certain her husband was relaxed and in deep sleep. She rolled her eyes towards his still body. He might have had doubts but she knew he was making the right choice. He would do well in the coming day’s activities. She allowed her heavy eyelids to close and soon joined her husband in deep sleep.
* * * * *
Chapter 8: A lie can travel halfway around the world
Haworth, West Yorkshire, England, Present day.
Beth could hear something faint but she struggled to recognize the source of the sound. She was neither awake, nor asleep but suspended in that state between. The ringing in her head forced her to concentrate. The shrill noise pierced her consciousness like an unwelcome visitor. Beth had fallen asleep, comfortable and relaxed deep within her armchair. She woke violently, finally recognizing the distinctive sound of her doorbell. She shook her head as if to shake the cobwebs from her brain. She pushed herself out of the chair and moved quickly to the door. Wiping away the sleep from her eyes, she opened the door without thinking. A policeman in full uniform smiled in acknowledgement. Beth studied the young man’s face trying to read his expression. Her heart grew heavy. He looked tall, wearing the police hat made him look taller.
“Beth Martindale?” asked the policeman in a firm, steady voice.
“Yes?” was all that Beth could manage. She was instantly annoyed with herself for the feeble sound that emerged from her mouth.
“Ms. Martindale, I’d like you to accompany me to Keighley station; we have some news about your fiancé.”
“What news? Can’t you tell me here?” Beth sounded irritated; she was still angry from her weak greeting and being wakened from her deep sleep.
“I’m afraid not we have something that we’d like you to see.” The policeman remained calm speaking in a flat monotone voice.
Beth examined his face looking for the slightest clue. Did he know anything? Was this good or bad news? “Why did I need to go to Keighley? Why couldn’t we meet at the Haworth police station?”
“We have the right equipment in Keighley. We’d really like you to come with us please.”
Thoughts streamed through Beth’s mind. “What type of equipment? Was this a lie detector thing? Are they going to question me?”
“I’ll get my coat.” Beth closed the door on the policeman leaving him to patiently wait on her front doorstep. She had not seen this guy before and would have preferred to talk with Eric, her local village Bobby. Beth grabbed her coat, secured her house keys and fluffed her flattened hair. She pushed her feet into a pair of sneakers and fumbled with the laces. A polite knock on the door signaled some urgency. “I’m coming, hold on I’ll be right there.” Beth completed her check of the kitchen and moved towards the door. “What does he think I’m going to do bolt out of the back door or something?” she rolled her eyes at the thought.
Beth exited her cottage on Sun Street and turned to lock her front door. The policeman waited patiently a few paces away. A thought raced through her mind. Watching TV cop shows sometimes does help. Beth turned to face the policeman, “Hey, am I being arrested?”
“No Miss, we’re simply asking you to accompany us to the station where we can discuss our recent findings with you.”
“So I don’t need to call a lawyer or anything?” The only lawyer Beth knew was David Wilks from the Blue Phoenix Group.
“You can always call a lawyer if you feel you need one. In this case I would recommend that you see what we have to show you first then decide. I can tell you that you’re not a suspect Miss, if that will make you feel better?”
Beth observed a couple of the neighbors huddled together gossiping. They watched Beth talk to the policeman and pointed to the police car with its blue flashing lights. The policeman had activated the car’s warning lights. He had parked in a poor place causing the road to narrow. He felt it prudent to warn traffic but the lights looked more sinister. The flashing lights provided some drama and added to the excitement of seeing Beth seemingly arrested. The traffic volume was light as people stared and continued to point. Beth thought the scene looked like many she had watched on Coronation Street, a popular British soap opera. She decided to get in the car quickly and end this spectacle that provided entertainment for the neighbors. The cop held the back door open for her and she slipped into the back of the car as quickly as she could. The cop entered the car and flicked the blue flashing lights to an off position. He fastened his seatbelt and picked up his radio to inform the dispatcher that they were on their way. He placed the car in gear, gently pushed the accelerator and started their journey to Keighley.
It was a familiar drive to Keighley. Beth had completed this journey many times in her young life. The silence was driving her mad but the policeman stuck to his task of navigating through the thickening traffic. Riding in the back of the police car reminded her of Sanjeev, her driver in India. How he used to weave through traffic at high speed using his horn and passing obstacles with only inches to spare. She looked at the uncluttered dashboard and smiled. There was no Lord Ganesha deity positioned on this dashboard. Beth had never ridden in the back of a police car before. It had a strange odor that she could not place. It was not offensive; in some ways it smelled clean and new. She wanted to ask the driver questions but she felt uncomfortable; she decided to remain silent. Beth looked at the traffic trying to remain calm.
Her mind wandered as she stared out of the window, watching people going about their daily lives. Was she on her way to an answer? Was she minutes away from her life crashing down in total ruins? Would she be told that Matt’s safe and sound? Perhaps Matt met with an unfortunate end? Would they tell her how he died and have they caught the perpetrators? Beth could feel herself sinking deeper into the seat as she played out the gruesome scene in her mind. She shook her head in defiance and told herself to stop it. Beth was expecting the worse and usually you get what you expect. She needed to be more positive, to focus on the outcome she wanted. Perhaps the police were going to inform her that Matt was alive and well. That is what she wanted but it would not explain his sudden disappearance. She just needed some good news, a little glimmer of hope. A thought popped into her mind. “Most of us, swimming against the tides of troubles, the world knows nothing about, need only a bit of praise or encouragement – and we’ll make the goal.”
“J.P. Fleishman,” Beth said quietly with a wry smile.
“What,” said the driver looking at her in his rear view mirror?
“It was nothing. I was just thinking out aloud.”
Despite Beth wrestling with her own insecurities, the drive to Keighley was uneventful. Beth’s stomach made a small noise drawing attention to the fact that she was hungry.
The car pulled onto Cavendish Street making a left turn into the police station. The driver parked the car in a small lot adjacent to the police building. He leaned over to retrieve his hat from the passenger’s seat. Beth unfastened her seatbelt as she watched him walk around the car and open her door.
“Come with me please Miss.” He sounded polite but he seemed annoyed and irritated.
Beth noticed what a glorious day it was as they entered the police station. The sun was bright, the sky had cleared and the birds seemed to drown out the droning noise of the traffic. Beth had been spending too much time moping around in her cottage to notice how beautiful the weather was after the storm. As they entered into the reception area the policeman nodded to a uniformed lady staffing the front desk.
“Come with me,” he said tersely. Beth wondered if she was in trouble but followed dutifully. They walked towards a door positioned to the right of the reception area. She followed the policeman through after he punched a code into a panel on the wall. They entered into an area containing three interview rooms. Frosted glass walls separated sparsely decorated rooms. It was a sterile environment with no homely touches. Beth was shown to a room with a large wooden desk positioned in the center. It was worn and scratched badly along its edges. A large flat computer screen was attached to a keyboard and a mouse. It faced away from the door, resting on a swivel base. Power cords snaked their way along the ground towards a power outlet on the far wall. Beth followed the hand signal of the policeman and took a seat.
“Someone will be with you soon.”
Beth smiled, finally realizing why the officer seemed annoyed. He was sent to get Beth, but that’s all. He was the transporter, the taxi driver. He clearly resented wasting his time having to drive to Haworth and back. He couldn’t hide his irritation and although he was polite, he was clearly annoyed. A squeaking door caused Beth to crane her neck to see who entered. Beth was surprised to see a petite, slim, uniformed female officer. She wore black pants and a bright blue short-sleeved shirt. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She had a clear complexion and brilliant blue eyes. She held a file folder with papers sticking out from the edge. She sat in one efficient motion and stared into her opened folder.
“Beth Martindale? Correct?” She extended her hand in a militaristic way.
“Correct,” said Beth, shaking her hand firmly.
“My name’s Sergeant Bowman. I’ve been asked to show you a quick video and ask you a few questions about Matt’s, alleged disappearance. Are you okay with that?”
Beth felt intimidated and really wondered if she should have called Mr. Wilks. “I’m fine. Have you found Matt yet?”
“All in good time Ms. Martindale. Let’s just watch this first.” Sergeant Bowman typed into the computer screen, clicked the mouse and swiveled the screen around where Beth could see it. A stationary image of a bank machine vestibule could be seen in the grainy picture. “I want you to watch this carefully and tell me if you recognize this to be Matt?” She clicked the mouse and the video started to play. A hooded figure moved through the door and approached the banking machine. Beth knew it was Matt. His body shape, his walk and his mannerism gave him away instantly. “Alleged disappearance,” was the words she had used. Matt walked across the screen and the grainy video went blank for a second. The angle of the camera had changed. The screen provided a shot from behind the façade of the cash machine. It looked like the camera was facing Matt directly. The video images were of a much better quality. Beth could see the man’s features as he went through the motions of withdrawing the money. She could see his coat unzipped at the chest, like Matt always wore it. Inside his open coat she could see his Rolling Stones tee shirt. He loved that tee shirt and wore it often. It was frayed a little around the collar and she could see this clearly. He wore a black peaked baseball cap with his hood pulled over his head. The video froze as Matt leaned in to retrieve the money. This afforded the clearest shot of his face in an unobstructed way.
“Is that Matt?” asked Sergeant Bowman; her voice trailed upwards at the end of her query. She pushed a printed snap shot image from the video across the table.
Beth studied the face carefully. She did not want to answer as she stared hard at his features. Her eyes fell to his neck and the frayed tee shirt collar. She opened her mouth slightly. She could see the faint glisten of a metal chain. She leaned inwards placing her eyes closer to the screen. She moved away from the screen to confirm her suspicions. It was clear, with no mistake. Matt’s face could have been mistaken for someone else. His Grandmother’s crystal pendant, hanging from his neck was unmistakable. “It’s him, I’m sure of that. When was this video taken?”
“The video was taken last night around 10pm. Beth, you have to understand, he’s not trying to hide. He used his own banking card to make a withdrawal from his own account. As soon as he did that, he popped up on our radar and we pulled the video. The good news is he’s alive but quite honestly we can’t do much more.”
“Why,” asked Beth looking up from the frozen image displayed on the monitor?
“He’s a grown man. He hasn’t broken the law. If he decides to wake up one morning and go for a trip to London, he’s allowed to do that. It might be irresponsible of him not to tell his loved ones, but it’s not illegal.” She closed her folder and looked at Beth.
“He’s in London then?” Beth flicked her eyes upwards towards the plain ceiling.
“That’s where the cash machine is located, just off Bond Street.” The Sergeant ran her hand over her folder and gazed towards the door avoiding eye contact with Beth.
Beth’s eyes began to well up with tears; she struggled to regain her composure. “When he gets home I’m going to kill him!” Realizing what she had just said Beth looked at the Sergeant in a state of panic.
The Sergeant smiled, “I know that’s an expression, I know what you mean. He’s not given a thought to the consequences of his actions. His parents and his fiancée are the ones suffering. I think that’s what you mean right?”
“Right,” said Beth smiling at the absurdity of her statement.
“I’m not condoning what he did; at least he didn’t lie to you.”
“I know, but a lie can travel halfway around the world while the truth is still putting on its shoes.”
“That’s a good one, I might use that one. Which song is that from?”
“It’s a famous quote.”
“Oh, who said that?” inquired the Sergeant feeling a little silly.
“Mark Twain.” Beth paused before asking her question. “Tell me something, why is it that I feel so stupid? He’s the one that’s taken off. He’s making us all look bad for worrying so.”
“You shouldn’t feel stupid because you care. He’s the one that’s acting up.”
“Are you sure he’s safe?” asked Beth with doubt in her eyes.
“Well frankly… no we’re not. In this video he walked in on his own, withdrew money from his account using his card and left on his own. He didn’t seem pressured and nobody seemed to be hovering over him. The CCTV cameras on the street outside tracked him for a little while and nobody met with him outside the bank.”
Beth rested her head in her hands and rubbed her face in frustration. “What do you think he needs the money for?”
“We don’t know but his credit card information is being monitored. He didn’t use it for a hotel or for food. I suspect he’s paying cash so that he can’t be traced to his exact location.” The Sergeant leaned in sympathetically. She knew Beth was uncomfortable, mad and irritated. She also knew Matt was either in serious trouble or exceptionally selfish.
“That makes sense. He’s still in the dog house big time if he ever comes home.” Beth was trying to make light of an embarrassing situation. She felt stupid and could only imagine what Matt’s parents were going through.
“I’m sorry Ms. Martindale we can’t really do much more; he hasn’t technically committed a crime. You understand?”
“Yes, thanks for showing me this,” said Beth staring at the frozen image of Matt’s partially hidden face.
“We can continue to monitor his credit card and we’ll let you know where he uses it. Even that is a courtesy for concerned relatives. I’m sorry, I really do feel for you but it seems he’s being inconsiderate. Unfortunately, that’s not against the law.”
Beth smiled in a painful way, “I understand and appreciate the help.”
“Thanks for coming downtown and confirming this sighting for us. We’ll keep you informed. If he contacts you directly can you let us know right away?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks, we would appreciate that. It’s for our records of course.”
“Of course,” Beth repeated hoping the interview was over.
“You’re free to go Ms. Martindale, unless you have any more questions?”
“No thanks. How will I get home?” said Beth picking at the rough skin on her fingers nervously.
“We’ll be happy to give you a ride back, that’s not a problem. We don’t like people driving when they have this much on their mind. It’s a distraction. I’ll make arrangements for you. Take the printed image with you and call me if it sparks any more information that you think might be helpful. Just follow me please.” The Sergeant pushed back from the desk and walked to the door. As if by instinct, Beth followed in a confused haze. Beth heard the Sergeant arrange for her ride home. She acknowledged the female driver and was in the car before her personal haze lifted. Beth was not totally out of it but she was in a state of mild shock. The red haired driver had not said anything, sensing Beth needed to be with her thoughts. She looked in the mirror and caught Beth’s gaze.
“You okay?”
“Yeah thanks, I’m sorry I’m not very talkative.”
“That’s understandable. What number on Sun Street do you live at?”
“45,” Beth stared at the image of Matt.
“Okay, well you sit back and relax. I should have you there in no time.”
“Thanks,” said Beth thinking about Matt. Why would he just take off? Was it the pressure of the wedding? Did he love her anymore? What should she do now he was in London? Beth’s thoughts swirled as she swayed from negative thoughts to positive actions. “I’m going to call Tabitha in London. She’d give me some good advice, some straight talk. Hell I’m going to talk with David Wilks also. With his connections at the Blue Phoenix group, I’m sure he’ll know what to do.” Beth thought through her ideas and devised an action plan. She felt better. The police car stopped outside of 45 Sun Street in Haworth. Beth snapped back to reality as the car’s motion came to an abrupt halt.
“Is this the place?” asked the red haired officer.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Yes, thanks for the ride. I really appreciate it,” said Beth halfway out of the car.
The officer replied. It temporarily halted Beth’s hasty exit. It brought a smile to her face. “My pleasure.”
The smile lingered as she proceeded towards her cottage door. She fumbled through her purse to retrieve her house keys. Beth felt warm as her thoughts turned to crammed roads, honking horns and a white Toyota taxi. Sanjeev would be weaving his way through Kolkata’s traffic, with his posh watch glinting in the strong sun. Opening her door Beth stumbled into her cottage relieved to be home. She had mixed emotions. Should she cry from relief or shout from anger. She felt numb and in no position to adequately respond. She did what English women under pressure have done for generations. She took off her coat and put the kettle on, to brew up a pot of tea. She placed the image of Matt on the kitchen counter.
Relaxing in her chair she sipped the calming tea. She tried hard to connect with her gut instincts. She had seen Matt withdrawing the money but it still felt unusual for him to take off without a word. “There must be a good reason?” said Beth. Beth had not given up on Matt. She had a strong feeling of foul play. “Matt wouldn’t just take off.” Beth listened to her inner voice. She felt strongly that Matt was in trouble. She needed a way to communicate with him, to find out what was going on. If he were in trouble, he would want to protect her from the fallout. He was the type to try to solve things on his own. How could she reach him? Matt appeared to be in London, on Bond Street. This was the only information that she had.
The only people she knew in London were David and Tabitha from the Blue Phoenix Group. It was logical for her to reach out to these people and ask for assistance. Beth convinced herself that she was being calm and rational. She leaned to her left and retrieved her mobile phone from her right hip pocket. A few keystrokes later, she was dialing the Blue Phoenix Group.
“Good afternoon, Blue Phoenix Group how may I direct your call?” was the greeting.
“David Wilks please,” said Beth as crisply as she could. Her heart was racing and her voice sounded strangely unfamiliar.
“I’m very sorry, Mr. Wilks is traveling on business. He will not be back in the office for a couple of days. Is there someone else who may help you?”
“Yes, can I speak with Tabitha Hughes please?”
“Certainly, I will connect you to Tabitha. Whom may I say is calling?”
“Beth Martindale.”
“Certainly Ms. Martindale, please hold.”
Beth was on hold for a few seconds before she recognized the familiar cheery voice of Tabitha.
“Hi Beth, it’s good to hear from you. How can I help you?”
“I’m not sure if you can Tabitha, I need some advice.” Beth relayed the story to Tabitha and described the events of the past few days. Tabitha listened intently and provided support. She told Beth that she would contact David Wilks immediately and get his advice. “There must be something that you guys can do?”
“David knows a lot of people Beth, he’s well connected in London. Let me get hold of him and see what he can come up with. He’s away on business right now. I’m sure if he knows you need help, he’ll make the time. You know David! In the meantime, if you need to call and chat, just give me a shout. You must be going nuts. If you decide to come down to London, give me a shout and let me know.”
Beth had not considered that as an option but perhaps she should? “Thanks Tabitha, just having someone to talk with helps a great deal. Is David in the UK or somewhere far away?”
“David’s in Coventry love. I know it helps to talk, let me get to David and let’s see what we can do to help you.”
“Okay, bye. Thanks again Tabitha.”
“No problem Beth, bye love.”
Beth tried to imagine Tabitha’s face; she wished she were sitting on her couch dishing out advice. Tabitha was a no nonsense type and Beth liked her a lot. A glass of wine and a good bitch session is what she needed right now. Tabitha would have her laughing again in seconds. They had hit it off the moment they spoke on the phone. Beth recalled their first conversation when she was in India. It seemed a long time ago now. Many things had happened since then. Bringing her some Belgium chocolates from Brussels did not hurt either. Beth smiled recalling the look in Tabitha’s eyes when she saw the chochies. They grew large and she could not contain her excitement. Tabitha’s soft spot was chocolate and a good party.
Beth leaned back into her comfy armchair and started to feel a little better. She wished she had a glass of red wine right now. Her thoughts turned to David Wilks. If Matt were in London, David would surely find him. David was well connected and had friends in MI5 and Scotland Yard. His contacts would be able to pull in some favors. He had often talked of his old school buddies who held prominent positions. David would get the wheels in motion to find Matt. “Watch out Matt, I have David on my side.” She leaned over and grabbed her tea.
* * * * *
Chapter 9: The Soul Collector
City of London, England, 1890.
Jackson’s heart was beating rapidly as he lifted his strong hand and rapped the metal doorknocker. The house was a stone built terrace in an affluent part of London. Jackson had followed the instructions left by his Master; he found the address with little difficulty. It was mid afternoon and the skies were turning. Grey clouds had moved in and the wind signaled the oncoming rain. Evening was approaching and the city was a dangerous place under the cover of darkness.
The door opened, a woman inquired about the nature of this intrusion. No guests were expected this afternoon and the Master of the house had indicated he was dining alone. “Who is it?”
“I have important business with the Master of the house; I must talk with him immediately.”
“The Master wants to remain undisturbed tonight, he’s studying.”
Jackson pushed the solid door open to reveal a diminutive woman, hardly up to the task of resisting intruders. Jackson puffed up his large frame by sticking out his chest to make himself look larger than he was. “Did you not hear me? I have important business with the Master of the house. I would respectfully suggest you request his presence.” Hearing the commotion a man stepped into the hallway and attempted to add substance to the woman’s protests.
“What seems to be the problem?” A young man in his late teens appeared. He was full of promise but it was ambitious when he squared up to Jackson. The woman moved aside to take refuge behind a larger force.
Jackson kept his hands at his side, not wanting to engage in a fight. He sized up the young man and decided he was certainly no threat. “I need to see the Master of the house urgently. I have information for him only; I’ve traveled far. It would be wise to get him now, tell him that the Keeper sent me.” Jackson stared violently at the young man. He used his size, and his deep voice, to impress upon him the importance of his mission. The young man turned to the woman and nodded. She scurried off at great speed. The young man continued to spread his chest in a misplaced attempt to block entry. Jackson grew impatient and thought about a blow to the neck, rendering this frail body helpless. He shuffled his right leg backwards and planted his foot. He would now have the perfect anchor to launch his weight forward and deliver a surprise blow.
“Who has the audacity to interrupt my studies in an uninvited way?” A voice could be heard but the source had yet to be established. An older man dressed in fine clothes entered the hallway. He approached the young man gently moving him to one side. He studied Jackson’s face and quickly reviewed the quality of his clothing. “Who are you? I don’t know you.”
“I was sent by the Keeper to talk with the Soul Collector.” Jackson felt good, he knew these words would resonate and grant him an audience.
“Bunch of gibberish, don’t know what your talking about but I would like you to leave.” The young man straightened his slumping posture, as if to signal his readiness should this turn physical.
Jackson’s eyes fell to the old man’s hand; he could see the faint glimmer of a gold ring. He looked intensely and could just make out the raised design of a Catfish. “I have traveled far and I apologize for my ramblings. I need to speak with you on a matter of great importance. My Master sent me to deliver a message and I can’t force you to be receptive.” Jackson raised his eyes to meet the old man’s. “Perhaps I can come back later but before you decide, I would like to shake the hand of the man I was sent to meet.”
Jackson extended his hand but twisted his palm downwards and straightened his fingers making his ring clearly visible. The old man’s eyes followed Jackson’s outstretched hand and lingered upon the gold ring. Recognizing the ring, he extended his hand in a warm handshake. “Please, it looks like a cold night, come inside and join me in my library. Rose, brew up some tea, I’d like to talk with this gentleman. Did you travel here alone?”
“No. My carriage driver waits out front. John, please direct the carriage driver to the back and ensure that he has something to eat.”
“My trusty hound rides with us, I would appreciate some food and water for the dog.”
“John, let’s extend our courtesy to the four legged visitor as well. Please come through, we have much to talk about.” John looked puzzled at the warm reception. Minutes earlier he was bracing for a fight. The Master had clearly indicated he did not know this gentleman. One handshake later and he was acting like a long lost relative had arrived. Rose had left the hallway heading for the kitchen to make tea. The two gentlemen walked down the hallway towards the library. John peered onto the street where a black carriage was parked with two tethered horses. The driver sat high on a seat accompanied by a small dog straining to see into the house. John exited the house closing the door behind him. He walked towards the carriage.
The two men entered the library. It was a small room with books loaded into shelves adorning the walls. Wooden paneling and carved heads of animals decorated the busy room. A large desk had books scattered across its surface. Light poured into the room from a single small window. It was clear that the Master of the house had been working when Jackson arrived. He walked to his desk and started to close his open books. He stacked them into piles on a smaller side desk. He sat at his desk and waved Jackson towards a chair positioned at the side desk. Jackson sat as instructed.
“Who are you and how did you get that ring?”
“My name’s Jackson, my Master told me to seek you out immediately. He gave me this address and told me to relay the bad news I have for you.”
“Bad news?”
“My Master is dead. We fear that he was poisoned. He gave me instructions to find the Soul Collector, is that you?”
“Did he give you that ring?”
“Yes.”
“Did he give you anything else?”
Jackson’s mood changed and he felt protective. He decided to press his question again. “Are you the Soul Collector?”
The old man paused, as if weighing his options and the possible consequences. He glanced towards the doorway before drawing a deep breath. “Jackson, you don’t understand anything. I’m deciding how to answer your question.” He paused again as he glanced towards the door. Rose entered the room carrying a tray stocked with a teapot and two cups. She placed the cups within their saucers and poured the tea. The steam from the hot tea created dancing spirals rising through the air. Jackson’s attention was drawn to the noise at the window as small rain drops tapped on the windowpane.
Rose completed her duties and left the library to return to the kitchen. Jackson leaned forward and attempted to hold the teacup. The bone china handle was delicately sculptured. Jackson’s large fingers were ill equipped to grasp a bone china teacup. He was desperate to sample the hot tea. He craved the warmth the hot liquid would provide. The old man smiled as he recognized the absurdity of Jackson’s predicament. Jackson solved the problem by grasping the teacup with both hands and tilting the cup to his mouth.
“Jackson, what did your Master tell you?”
“To come and see you. He led me to believe that you would be more forthcoming. Thank you for the tea. It appears that my Master was wrong. You refuse to identify yourself as the Soul Collector and my mission was to find that man. I have more information but I think I need to leave, if you refuse to engage with me.” Jackson pushed his chair away from the desk and began his calculated bluff.
“Sit down, you’re being hasty. I will admit it. I am the Soul Collector. Your Master had one of two identical rings. I, obviously have the other.” The old man waved his finger in the air to punctuate the point. “Only two rings exist, each identical in everyway. The Catfish and the Chisel are the markings on each side of the stone. Place your ring on the edge of the desk. Go on, do it!” he insisted.
Jackson obliged, watching the old man struggling to slide his tight ring off his fat finger. Jackson placed his ring inches from the edge of the desk. The old man placed his ring near his portly belly, snuggled up to the edge of the desk. Within seconds the two rings turned, the stones faced each other and raced across the desk’s surface. They joined in the middle, attracted like a magnet to metal. Jackson raised his eyes from the rings and looked at the old man.
He separated the rings and flicked Jackson’s ring across the desktop towards his waiting hands. Both men slipped the rings back onto their fingers. “These rings are a pair Jackson. They were never meant to be far from each other and there’s a reason for that. You have much to learn but I need to tell you a few important facts first.”
Jackson moved his ring in a circular motion around his large finger. “I’m listening.”
“Your Master gave you this ring and told you to come here for a reason.”
“It was his dying wish. It seemed more important than telling me who poisoned him.” Jackson did not blink; his intense stare bore deep into the old man’s thoughts.
“We have common enemies, the same people who killed your Master. Your Master and I have an affinity. We represent an organization, sworn to uphold an important legacy. There are wealthy and dangerous people interested in what we know. That means you are now in grave danger. Your arrival means I’m in grave danger also. I knew your Master, but only in a professional capacity. Did he have any children?”
“No, he wasn’t married and had no children.”
“He gave you the ring, so I think I can interpret his actions. He’s appointed you to carry on his duties.”
“What duties?” Jackson could feel his body stiffening.
“Yes, we both have specific duties that we swear to uphold. I can’t tell you any more. Not until I’m sure that your Master means for you to continue with his duties. Did he give you anything else?”
Jackson anticipated this question and prepared his answer. He knew the old man was being cagey. He was the first to make a leap of faith; by admitting he was the Soul Collector. Perhaps it was now time to show some trust? “He gave me an envelope and an Amulet.”
“Can I see it?” The old man was clearly excited.
Jackson reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the envelope. He opened it slightly and plucked the Amulet from the folded paper. “Is this what all the fuss is about?”
“Put it away quickly and keep it safe. Don’t show that to anyone.” The old man’s mood changed immediately. “It’s time you knew what you’ve got yourself into.”
The old man moved towards a bookshelf crammed with old leather bound books. He ran his fingers across the spines and stopped at a green leather book. He pulled the book from the shelf and moved towards a section of wood paneling. Jackson fumbled with the Amulet and the envelope. Taking care to use his body as a shield, the old man stopped at a section of wall between two tall bookshelves. With his free hand, he reached for a carving protruding from the wall. A carved wooden dog’s head, with a long snout had observed the entire conversation. The old man wrapped his fingers around the snout and turned the carving. The dog’s head popped away from the wall revealing a small, concealed inset. He reached in quickly and retrieved a package wrapped in a blue cloth. He pushed the carving back into place, sealing the inset. Jackson had not seen this; the old man had been discreet. The old man walked over to the desk and set the package down carefully.
The package was unwrapped revealing a small expensive looking box. It was ornate with symbols resembling the designs on Jackson’s envelope. The box was small but heavy. It was made from solid gold. Jackson’s eyes were drawn to the box; it shimmered in the fading light. The old man diverted his attention to the green leather bound book. He pushed the book to the center of the desk. Jackson could see the book’s title: 2 Promises. The old man opened the front cover, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside, the pages had been cut to hollow out a square storage area. Placed carefully within was a smaller book, its cover adorned with Egyptian symbols. The old man removed the inner book carefully and placed it on the desk. “Can you read Jackson?”
“Yes, I can read.”
“I think it’s time you read this. I will give you some time but I can’t let you take this away with you.” The old man gave the smaller book to Jackson. It was a thin book; consisting of approximately a dozen pages. Every page was decorated with hieroglyphics, forming a border down each side. The middle of each page contained hand written text. The text was written in English. The handwriting was exceptionally neat. Jackson settled in for a good read taking his time to understand the book. Occasionally, he would rest the book down upon the small desk to ask the old man a question. The gravity of his assignment unfolded within the pages. The old man would embellish with articulate answers and real life examples to keep Jackson engaged.
Rose visited the two men bringing food and drinks. She had lit a candle in the library and hung an oil lamp in the hallway. She left muttering some comment relating to reading in the dark ruining the eyes. The rain had stopped but the night’s cool air hung over the city. It was dark outside and the two men continued to discuss the book. Inside the house, the servants had gone home for the night. Rose bid her farewell and left the two men in the library. Outside, in the square at the back of the house, the carriage stood motionless. The driver had taken shelter from the rain, deciding to nap inside the carriage. Using a short rope, he had tied Dusty to the small handrail on the driver’s seat. Dusty curled up on the seat and tucked his snout under his tail. He had fallen asleep when a soft noise woke him. The click of the carriage door caused him to open his eyes and raise his head. He smelled an unfamiliar scent. Someone had approached the carriage and was opening the door.
The driver was stretched out across the carriage bench. He was asleep, exhausted from the journey to London. The driver had enjoyed his meal today; the staff had invited him to join them in the kitchen. He really enjoyed the spirited conversation. He was only a driver for hire; so he could not answer their questions about Jackson.
As the carriage door opened a shining steel blade sliced mercilessly across the driver’s neck. He woke in horror, choking on his own blood. The driver slumped onto the carriage floor; he was sitting in a pool of his own blood. Dusty suspected foul play but remained silent. He knew his tethered neck would not afford him a fair fight. Dusty decided to crouch low on the driver’s seat in the hope that he would remain undetected. The man pushed the driver’s arm into the carriage and closed the door behind him. To the casual observer the carriage looked secure, waiting for an occupant. The horses remained calm, preoccupied with their feedbags.
The man moved through the shadows and approached the house from the rear. The façade of the house was a modern structure. The rear of the house was older, with solid walls, smaller windows and thicker doors. Each home in the terraced row had an older extension at the rear. Approaching the rear of the house, the man pushed the wooden door open and walked in undetected. He carried a large bloodstained knife in his right hand. Dusty watched him disappear into the house; he pulled his body backwards straining to escape his tether. He pulled hard hoping to slip the noose over his large ears. He strained to pull his head through the tight loop. The rope burned the back of his ears. He continued to wriggle his body in an attempt to slip his restraint.
Paul Smith entered the house; he heard voices talking in the library. He waited patiently in the hallway. He tried to calm his breath in order to hear the conversation. After a while, he had heard enough. He quietly approached the door to the library. He passed an oil lamp and froze as the floor beneath him creaked. The men were engrossed with their conversation; they were oblivious to the creaking sound. He could see an older man was standing at the entrance to the library. The old man placed his candle upon a small table. Shadows stretched across the wall, projected by the flickering candle.
The old man picked up the candle and moved closer to the door. It was pitch black outside and the soft candlelight made it difficult to read. The men continued to talk; they discussed their common bond.
“In the ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics, Wepwawet is depicted as a jackal headed funerary deity. Wepwawet is often confused with Anubis. Anubis has a striking black jackal’s head. Wepwawet has been characterized with either a gray or white head. Many believe this subtlety in color to indicate the jackal’s head to be inaccurate. I can tell you, Wepwawet has a wolf’s head. Many of the Egyptian Gods get confused, replaced and concatenated. Wepwawet is important to us for many reasons, his name means ‘opener of the ways.’ His role is to protect and lead the deceased through the underworld. I think I’ve a rare book here somewhere on Upper Egypt. The Greeks called this place Lycopolis.” The old man ran his fingers across the book titles looking for a specific volume. He turned his back to the door and glanced away from the bookshelf. He could see Jackson scrutinizing the text; he was a quick study.
Paul Smith listened intently until he had heard enough. If he had the Amulet, he would remain virile, youthful and healthy. He would win the hand of his beloved Claire. She would look at him differently, drawn to his powerful presence. He had come this far; he was driven to get the Amulet. He would attain the powers that came with it. He had gained additional insight into these powers from listening to the two men. It was now time to get the Amulet and the rare book that explained everything. He licked his thumb and forefinger. Waiting for the precise moment, he reached his arm around the doorframe. He extinguished the candle, throwing the library into darkness. The old man was unaware of the intrusion. He had his back to the door and his head firmly planted in an ancient text.
Within seconds, Paul leapt forward and plunged the sharp bloodstained blade deep into the back of the old man. He grabbed the top of the old man’s shoulder and thrust the blade forward with determined force. The flimsy shirt offered no protection from the sharp piercing steel. The old man was falling before Jackson had a chance to react. At first he thought the candle had blown out and simply needed some attention. When the old man fell, Jackson thought he was stumbling in the dark. Perhaps he was looking for a way to re-light the candle? When Jackson’s eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw the darkened figure of a man standing over him. It was not the portly figure of the old man; this shape was leaner and approached quickly. A small amount of light bled through the window from the street outside.
Jackson’s eyes widened; he saw the glint of the metal blade raised high above his head. Instinctively, he moved to his left to avoid a downward blow from the sharp knife. Jackson knew he was in trouble. He was cornered, disorientated, unarmed and in a vulnerable position. The odds were stacked against him, with his aggressor about to deliver a fatal blow. He had no time to negotiate and no time to react. The blade was raised and Jackson closed his eyes bracing himself for the slicing pain. Paul Smith felt powerful and in control. He had executed his plan flawlessly; he needed to kill the younger guy quickly. The servants were gone and the carriage driver dealt with. He could take his time and locate the Amulet. He would take the book that explained how these powers worked.
The blade made its downward journey towards Jackson’s neck; it was abruptly halted. Paul Smith winced from the acute pain shooting through his right forearm. A strong force pushed him to his left, but the pain was intense. The direction of the blade was violently deflected. Jackson managed to force his eyes open. A snarling noise could be heard in the darkened scuffle. Jackson had filled his head with Egyptian legends. He imagined Wepwawet, in the form of a large wolf saving his soul. The facts were less fanciful.
Dusty had struggled against the tight noose, tethering him to the carriage. Scuffing and bruising his neck, he had managed to wriggle free. Fearing for his Master’s safety, he managed to push open the large wooden door. Dusty arrived at the darkened library just in time. Using his acute sense of smell, with his vision geared to movement, he identified the intruder easily. Dusty leapt forward from the dark. He clamped his strong jaws tightly around Paul Smith’s forearm. The loyal Beagle’s momentum knocked Paul from his feet. Paul writhed around on the floor but Dusty refused to let go. Paul had dropped the knife using his free hand as his only means of defense. He punched Dusty repeatedly until Dusty had to let go.
Dusty scampered off to a dark corner to regroup. He was winded from the blows to his ribs. Jackson had managed to locate the downed intruder; he used his large frame to punch him hard. Paul was not going to win this fight. In the scuffle he had managed to locate the sacred book that Jackson was reading. Paul held the book tightly. From his position on the ground, he kicked a leg forward in a powerful movement, delivering a blow to Jackson’s legs. Jackson crumpled under the blow and fell to the floor. As he fell, he flailed his arms desperately trying to break the fall. He jammed his back across the sharp edge of the solid wooden desk. He jarred his elbow on the flat surface. A crunching sound registered a cleanly broken collarbone, followed by intense pain.
Dusty moved forward immediately and placed himself between his Master and Paul. He stood over the knife, which lay invitingly on the library floor. He pushed his front feet forwards, spiked the hair on his neck and snarled menacingly at Paul. Paul seized this opportunity to run from the library. Stepping over the old man he held the precious book tightly; he ran through the narrow hallway. Paul grabbed the oil lamp as he passed. He raced to the back door and approaching safety. He almost made it, until Dusty intercepted again. The old man had staggered after Paul, recognizing he had the book. Dusty was faster and arrived at the back door first. He jumped into Paul’s back, pushing him into the large wooden door. Paul fell into the door with considerable force. His slumping frame crushed the fragile oil lamp. It fell to the floor bursting into flames. Dusty, fearful of the fire, leapt backwards. The old man collapsed from his exertions with blood seeping from his wounds. Paul’s body smothered the exploding lamp; he was doused in flammable oil. Paul was burning and screamed in pain. The wooden furniture covered in piles of freshly laundered linens quickly embraced the flames. The room burned fiercely within the older section of the house. Paul ran from the house screaming and in flames.
Dusty backed away into the newer part of the house; the flames engulfed the old room. He barked repeatedly to try to wake the old man lying on the stone floor. It was unclear if Paul had escaped with the book. It could have been lost to the burning inferno. Jackson tried to save the old man but the flames were intense. He closed a large wooden door to the hallway. He hoped he could contain the fire to the old part of the house. He quickly returned to the library followed by his loyal Beagle. Jackson searched for the gold box frantically.
“Where the hell is it?” He heard raised voices outside, as a passerby alerted residents to the flames. He needed to leave quickly. He was injured and the old man was dead. What if he were to be accused of this crime? The house staff would certainly describe him to the police. Jackson frantically searched for the gold box, before bolting from the house. To avoid attention he tried to blend in with the milling crowd. Walking through the busy streets, he tightened his grip on Dusty’s collar. The police moved the carriage and the frightened horses away from the flames. A crowd had organized with men throwing buckets of water onto the flames. Jackson needed to get away fast.
He slipped away into the growing crowd and disappeared. The old man had been stabbed during the fight in the library. As the fight ensued, the old man had managed to grab the Golden box. Badly wounded, he knew he had to hide the box. He had sworn to protect it and he knew the dangers associated with his pledge. The old man had fumbled for the decorative carved dog’s head. He was lucky; he found the dog’s snout at the first attempt, despite the darkness. He turned the dog’s head allowing him to hide the gold box and his ring. They were both hastily pushed into a hidden compartment, behind a paneled wall. Jackson was unsure. Had the intruder left with the box and the book? He still had the Amulet; he needed to keep that safe.
That night it was widely reported; the news of the fire made newspapers outside of London. Judge Barton Brown had died in his home that night. He succumbed to the flames, dying alone in his house. It was thought that he was cooking, as his badly charred body was found in the kitchen. A badly damaged pocket watch, inscribed with a note of appreciation, was found on his burnt body. The prestigious London Law School had presented the watch for 20 years of service. The police had used his favorite pocket watch as a means of identification.
Jackson made his way back to Yorkshire. He read about Judge Brown’s demise in a local newspaper. Jackson kept a low profile and faded into every day life. He never mentioned the fire, or his adventure that night to anyone. He kept the Amulet safe knowing that he would always be in danger. He lived a long and healthy life. Many disputed his age when he passed. Some said he was well over 90 years old, before he succumbed to a bad case of pneumonia. He left two sons and a daughter. He outlived his loving wife by many years. He had an unusual dying wish. A small wooden box, containing the ashes of his trusty hound, was tucked inside his casket and buried along with him. It was forbidden to bury dogs in hallowed ground. Dusty had risked his life that fateful night and Jackson had never forgotten that act of selfless bravery. Jackson made his oldest son swear to honor his last dying wish. To this day Jackson and Dusty, his loyal Beagle, remain inseparable.
Jackson managed to keep his existence low key. He avoided attention by living modestly and spending his remaining days in the small Yorkshire village of Haworth. He was buried in the Church graveyard; he selected a special stone to mark his family grave. Jackson selected an Angel to watch over his burial site. Jackson’s funeral attracted a large crowd, despite his low profile. After days of constant rain the weather broke, as if to pay homage to a special soul. The warming sun was a welcome change as fast racing clouds scurried across the blue sky. The service was emotional and the Vicar navigated expertly through a tough eulogy. Upon completion, there was not a dry eye left at the graveside.
The Angel headstone remains intact today. Her once brilliant white exterior is now weather stained and grey, showing the ravages of time and inclement weather.
* * * * *
Chapter 10: The Gift from Anubis
Upper Egypt, 4500 B.C.
It was a period of history long before King Narmer was born. People were saddened; an important and beloved Nesu had died. It was a somber time across Upper Egypt; which introduced doubt and uncertainty. The high priest Ete toiled tirelessly, preparing the Nesu’s body for the opening of the mouth ceremony. He had to be precise. One mistake, one missed detail and he would hamper the Nesu’s safe passage into the afterlife. For him to join the Gods in the majestic afterlife and to ensure a smooth transition for his heir, the ceremony must be performed flawlessly. There would be no room for error; the consequences would be grave. For the Nesu to have command of all of his senses in the afterlife, a specific ritual had to be performed. This ritual was well documented and mentioned in the Book of the Dead. Today, ancient temple walls are decorated with the scenes of this important ceremony. The Opening of the Mouth ceremony needed to be meticulously completed. No detail, no matter how small, was to be compromised. The Opening of the Mouth ceremony is one of the most important and ancient rituals known to mankind.
Specially designed and custom manufactured tools are used to perform specific tasks in the ceremony. Precise steps need to be executed in an exact sequence. The Adze was a special tool used only for this ceremony. It was hand crafted from meteoric metal, found lying in the desert. The metal was thought to be a gift from the Gods. This unusual metal would then be crafted by human hand, to form an Adze. Various steps would be followed to ensure the Nesu had sight, hearing and speech capabilities in the afterlife. The ceremony contained a step where the preparation of a great meal occurred. The meal contained bread, beer and meat. This vast quantity of food would be left in the sealed tomb. The food would nourish its inhabitants on their long journey to the afterlife. The tomb would contain artifacts and belongings of all types, to accompany the Nesu on his journey. Occasionally animals and even live slaves were added to the sealed tomb.
Each day the sun would rise from the depths of the Earth and travel across the desert sky. By mid-day the sun would be at its hottest, reaching its highest point in the clear blue sky. As the day progressed, the sun would travel back to the Earth’s horizon. Deep within the Earth’s underworld, was the home of the afterlife – a place called Duat. The sun God Ra would travel through Duat at night, moving from west to east. Apep would lead an epic battle each night. The sun God Ra would emerge from Duat victorious the next morning. Duat was the place where people’s souls went after death. The dangers that lay in Duat are chronicled by ancient texts. The Book of Gates and the Book of the Dead outline these dangers and the process for judgment.
Osiris presides over Duat; he is the lord of the underworld. The sun travels underground through Duat each night. It brings light and nourishment re-energizing the deceased. Buried deep within the symbolism of the temple walls, you will see a scene repeating across Egypt. It is a striking scene that each soul will need to face. Before you are allowed to enter the underworld, you must first succumb to the weighing of your heart. The ancients believed that your heart was the home of your mind, will and character. The right amount of will, character and truth would keep the heart in balance. Ma’at was the Goddess of truth and justice. She was responsible for maintaining order in the universe. At its creation, she had eliminated chaos from the universe.
Many wall paintings show Anubis, the jackal headed God, using a scale to weigh hearts. A balanced heart has the same weight as a feather from Ma’at. Any heart out of balance, heavier or lighter, would not be allowed in the paradise of Aaru. Instead, these damaged or corrupt souls would be rejected and devoured by the Goddess Ammit. Ammit was a symbolized demon Goddess. She represented a local concoction of all that was feared. She had the head of a crocodile, the torso of a leopard and the rear end of a hippopotamus. Ammit would sit beneath the scales of justice, before the throne of Osiris. She would wait patiently for the steady flow of unworthy souls. If a soul were to be judged unworthy, then Anubis would feed the soul to Ammit for total annihilation.
The weighing of the heart, to assess the worthiness of the deceased to enter the afterlife, is depicted clearly in the Book of the Dead. Anubis is depicted in funerary contexts, atop of nine bows that symbolize his domination over the foes of Egypt. Anubis is most commonly depicted with a black jackal’s head. The head embalmer, such as Ete, would wear an Anubis costume when he performed the ceremony for the Nesu. Ete was careful to say that he worshipped his Nesu, but in reality he worshipped Anubis. Ete had studied the embalmer’s art and was the trusted practitioner for this delicate ceremony.
Ete had sole responsibility to prepare the body and assist with the Opening of the Mouth ceremony. The new Nesu trusted Ete’s skills; they would ensure his Father’s safe passage. Ete had a healthy respect for Anubis. He knew that one day he would meet this powerful God. He considered himself an extension of Anubis, his servant in the mortal world. Over thousands of years, the attributes of Gods merge, and their profiles change. Wepwawet was originally a war God; he commanded a loyal following in Atef-Khent, in Upper Egypt. Wepwawet was an advanced scout, who would travel ahead of the Nesu and clear the way for his army to follow. His symbol was used to strike fear into opponents. It would be flown on standards that led armies into battle. To the uneducated, thousands of years later, it would be easy to confuse depictions of Anubis and Wepwawet. Wepwawet had a wolf head; it was similar to a jackal. Anubis was commonly portrayed with a black jackal’s head. Wepwawet was most commonly portrayed with a grey wolf-like head. Many scholars debate the existence of Wepwawet. They state that he was an invention of the Nesu designed to associate himself with the characteristics of a wolf. Wepwawet was said to accompany the Nesu on hunts, he was the one with the sharp arrow, more powerful than the Gods. As judgment was clouded with time, the association with hunting moved to death. Wepwawet was recast as the “Opener of the ways.” The wolf-like God was now associated with the “One who accompanies spirits of the dead” through Duat. Wepwawet became linked with Anubis; he was eventually considered his son.
The wall paintings show Wepwawet with the head of a grey wolf. He has white fur, recognizing his lupine origins. He is depicted as a soldier, carrying a mace and a bow. Atef-Khent was renamed Lycopolis by the Greeks, meaning the City of Wolves. The shifting sands of time had merged Wepwawet into Anubis. He was now the God of the Dead, in the Ogdoad system of belief. Time loses the trail of facts. Time creates it’s own trail of facts. Many scholars today believe a Nesu fabricated the character of Wepwawet to become more wolf-like. We know better. Ancient Nesu’s were Gods, portrayed in human form. They had access to information that mere mortals could only dream about. They could see things that mortals could not see. Irrelevant of time’s murky recollection, Wepwawet was a powerful wolf guide, who provided safe passage through the underworld of Duat. Wepwawet would act as a messenger of the Gods, moving between the underworld and the mortal world. Anubis would weigh the hearts and Wepwawet would guide the souls: the jackal and the wolf.
Ete had studied both the jackal and the wolf; he knew their powers and respected them both. It was a difficult time; the recently deceased Nesu was extremely popular. Doubts were beginning to surface about his heir. Would this change cause famine, disease and war? The deceased Nesu was a great leader, connected strongly with the Gods of the underworld. He had brought peace and prosperity for many years and the people loved him. Ete wanted to do an immaculate, flawless job. He had worked long and hard preparing the body. Ete had toiled for weeks in a dark candle lit tomb. He had held this trusted position for many years and had worked in tombs throughout his life. With no direct sunlight, it was cold and he shivered pulling his cotton wrap tightly around his shoulders.
His health was failing and the hostile conditions made him sick. Poor ventilation and a lack of sunlight challenged his frail body. For a second, his eyes struggled to adjust to the dim light. He reached for a shiny metal instrument, missing it with his hands. The pointed instrument fell from the stand, it hit the stone floor with a deafening sound. It echoed throughout the stone chamber, deep within the ground. The pungent odor from the embalming fluids raced through his nostrils, overwhelming his senses. The lack of light, sleep and food, added to his sudden weakness. Ete’s knees buckled, as if kicked by a camel. He joined the instrument face down on the cold stone floor. His breathing intensified and he felt his life force ebbing away. He did not resist, for death was no stranger. He did not fear death, for he knew what the next steps were. He knew his heart was in balance with the feather of Ma’at. Anubis would soon welcome him to Duat; he would cast a wry smile to Ammit as Wepwawet guided him to Aaru.
In his fume filled mind, Anubis appeared as a frightening vision. He had a man’s muscular body and the black snouted head of a jackal. Wearing a collar of blue and gold stripes, his eyes were bright yellow and pierced the soul. Anubis helped Ete to his feet. His mouth remained closed, but his voiced echoed within Ete’s mind. Anubis explained to Ete; his time had come too early. He needed to return to the mortal world, to complete the Opening of the Mouth ceremony for the deceased Nesu. Anyone else would surely make a mistake and this could not be tolerated for such a great Nesu. Anubis moved his large hand to the base of his collarbone, at the neck. He grabbed a pendant, supported by a thick gold chain, from around his neck. Yanking on the chain, he ripped it from his neck allowing the chain to fall to the ground and melt like butter. In his other hand he held a decorative gold box. He placed the pendant within the box and closed the lid with his large fist. He extended his strong muscular arm and allowed the box to sit upon his outstretched open palm. He offered Ete the box and the pendant. Contained within the protective box was an Amulet; a pendent made from a polished black material and shaped like a jackal’s head.
“This will keep you healthy. Keep it safe and return it to the Nesu when you have completed your life in the mortal world.” Anubis explained to Ete the great power of the Amulet and its origins. Anubis pressed the box into Ete’s hand. He closed Ete’s fingers around the object. As Anubis faded into the deep recesses of Ete’s mind, he knew he needed to wake. He needed to return to the mortal world and resume the preparation of the deceased Nesu’s body. He could see a bright light ahead and although his legs remained still, he moved towards the light. It was as if his mind moved his body. He was close now and could feel the heat emanating from the light. He entered the light and was about to pass through, when he suddenly became aware of a presence. A loud snarling noise sent a shudder through his entire being. It was the sound of a wild animal but it was not from the mortal world. A beast from the underworld did not want Ete to return. He dare not look backwards and hastened his journey through the light, towards the heat.
Ete could hear the beast gaining on him with every passing second. He gripped the Golden box tightly and strained towards the light. He could feel the beast approaching, as if the ground were shaking underneath him. He felt fear. The beast did not want to let him go. He was gaining ground and his progress felt slow and heavy. Like emerging from a fog, Ete finally broke through the light, accompanied by a stench and a snarl that would haunt him for the rest of his life. He felt a blistering pain, as a large razor sharp claw wounded his lower leg. He had made it through but the beast had sliced his calf with three deep scratches. The claws had raked his calf and severed the leather strap of his sandal.
As the pain registered, he managed a fleeting look backwards and saw a sight he would never forget. Wepwawet, in the form of a large wolf, was tracking an errant soul trying to return to the mortal world. Wepwawet had nearly caught him. He had escaped by the narrowest of margins. The snarling snout, hot breath and muscular frame, belonged to a powerful wolf. The “Clearer of the Ways” was annoyed at letting a soul escape without judgment. Ete was in awe of Anubis; he had nightmares about Wepwawet, for the remainder of his days.
Ete woke, still lying on the cold stone floor. The pain in his calf screamed through his mind like a pack of jackals fighting over fresh meat. He glanced downwards at his injured leg. Blood poured from the deep wounds. Small pools of blood trickled into the deep tile crevices of the stone floor. Still holding the boxed Amulet in his hand, Ete instinctively grabbed his calf. He squeezed the sliced flesh together and applied some pressure. He flipped open the lid of the Golden box and grabbed the polished Amulet. The Amulet came into contact with the wound; an acute burning sensation followed. Ete let out a scream that echoed around the chamber. The noise was amplified into a deafening roar. The pain was unbearable. His leg responded, as if plunged into a fire. As a child, Ete had stayed too long in the mid-day sun. He recalled his badly burnt back. This reminded him of that night, lying in bed trying to get comfortable. After the pain came a sudden coolness. This was quite different to that sun burned night. He gripped his calf tighter and it felt cool and sticky. The pain had subsided and the blood had dried upon his leg. Ete picked up the Golden box, he moved to his feet easily, supporting his weight. His damaged leg felt no pain.
He placed the Amulet upon a small table. He gently placed the box next to it. He reached for a water soaked cloth carefully placed near the deceased Nesu’s body. Using the cloth, he washed away the dried blood from his calf. The water streamed into his leather sandal. He kicked the sandal to one side and looked at his scarred leg. He had three long scars running the length of his calf; they were white and completely healed. He had worked with bodies his entire life; he knew what old scars looked like. His leg had the look of scars healed over a ten-year period.
Ete washed the remaining blood stains from his leg and felt the wounds. He rolled the calf muscle to see if the wound would open under pressure. The flesh held tight, his leg was completely healed. He glanced at the Amulet. “This will keep you healthy,” he recalled. He felt strong and vibrant. His dimming eyesight was sharp and he cold read the markings on the far tomb wall. He had not felt like this for years. He picked up the Amulet and placed it into a pouch attached to his belt. He grabbed the Golden box and covered it with a cloth. Ete looked at the floor trying to locate his missing sandal. He reached down and picked up the damaged sandal. Upon inspection, he noted the leather heel strap had been cut clean through. Something caught his eye, something unusual. He tilted the leather heel on an angle raising the base of the sandal closer to his face. Embedded deep within the heel was a large claw. The end of Wepwawet’s claw had snapped off as he tried furiously to snare Ete’s leg. The air around the claw was hot; the claw was hotter. He could see plumes of air heating up. The cool air licked the claw only to rise upwards like serpents writhing through the tall grass. They danced in spirals as they made their way towards the cooler air. Ete licked his fingers and reached for the claw. His saliva made a hissing noise as his fingers gripped the claw. He pulled gently and the claw broke in half, still malleable from the heat. He placed the end of the claw on the table. He dug his fingers into the leather and retrieved the other half of the claw. Both pieces had cooled by the time Ete had retrieved a cloth, to wrap his precious souvenir. He placed the cloth into the same pouch. Ete had four artifacts from Duat. These artifacts were from the Gods themselves. He had been instructed to keep the Amulet safe; it would bring him health. This would allow him to complete the preparations needed to send the deceased Nesu to the underworld.
Ete knew the Amulet had healed his leg. He knew the Amulet made him feel young and vital. How long would this effect last? Who made that decision? He had been given a chance to conclude his immediate activities; he knew he must fulfill that obligation. After completion of his duties, it would be an uncharted journey. He would not have to listen to the unenlightened anymore. There was no doubt for him anymore; the Nesu have a direct relationship with the Gods. Often, they would communicate with the Nesu through dreams or meditation. Many in the general public were suspicious, claiming this to be a fraud. They would not openly say this for fear of death. The Nesu was a powerful leader and would not tolerate open dissent. A hardcore group sought to discredit the Nesu and formed secret societies with interesting names. They were formed in backrooms to discuss the possibilities of an alternate power structure. The Nesu had a divine route to the Gods. This divinity was seriously questioned during periods of famine, drought and bad omens. A strong Nesu would quell this type of discourse but some groups attempted murder. They plotted to kill the Nesu, using poison or other means.
Many tried to persuade vulnerable palace staff, who had access to the Nesu, or his food and drink supply. Some almost succeeded but the Nesu had food tasters, with strict security measures for protection. Ete had experienced something that he would never forget. He knew for certain that the Gods existed, that the Nesu were here to do their mortal bidding. Anubis had decided that this Nesu deserved to have the best possible preparation. He wanted him to have a smooth and glorious transition to the underworld. Ete could ensure this; his failing health had prevented him from completing his meticulous preparations. His understudy would have completed the job, it was clear that he would have made mistakes. These small omissions were thought to have serious consequences in the afterlife.
Anubis had given Ete the Amulet and the box, to ensure safe passage. Ete’s health had improved, he was able to complete his duties and train his understudy. Ete lived for another 20 years. When it was his time to go, the Nesu recognized his service as a high priest and chief embalmer. He was afforded a special tomb, with preparations well above his status. He looked forward to meeting Anubis; he was confident of a balanced heart. The feather of Ma’at balanced the scales perfectly; Anubis waved Ete willingly into the underworld. Wepwawet was there to guide Ete to his final destination. Before he was released, Anubis questioned Ete about the Amulet. Ete explained that when he had fallen ill, he made arrangements to talk with the Nesu. He had described his recollections of that fateful afternoon, 20 years earlier. He described the Amulet’s powers and its famous origins. He personally presented the Amulet and the Golden box to the grateful Nesu. The Nesu promised to keep them secure. The Gods are not supposed to leave traces of their powers in the mortal world. If knowledge of the Amulet became widespread, then Anubis would be severely chastised by more powerful Gods.
Ete had lived up to his obligation; he had managed to follow his last instructions to secure the Amulet. The young Nesu had seen Ete’s improvement with his personal health; he now understood its cause. He had no reason to doubt the Amulet’s powerful effects.
The young Nesu was now 29 years old. He remembered his Father passing when he was only nine years of age. His recollections were still vivid and hurtful. He knew that Ete had done a masterful job of the Opening of the Mouth ceremony. He had achieved perfection with the preparations to transition his Father to the afterlife. He remembered Ete fondly; he respected his life and his counsel. It was early morning in the royal palace. Each day, the young Nesu would start with a private meditation. He walked into a small, dark, private room. It was sparsely decorated. The Nesu had left strict instructions that noone was to enter this room, ever. He was never to be disturbed in this room - never. He would thank the Gods for his existence and concentrate on clearing his mind of mortal clutter.
He would often meditate, as a way of connecting with the Gods and his spiritual guides. After his usual morning meditation, the young Nesu walked out onto a balcony, overlooking the royal courtyard. He rested his forearms on the hot stone balcony. He tilted his face upwards to catch the early morning sunrays. Today was hot; the sun warmed his bare shoulders. Beads of sweat instantly formed on his dark skin. His brain functioned slower in the mornings, still calmed from the mental exertion of meditation. As the day wore on, he became more mentally alert and connected with his mortal realities. His sluggish senses started to recognize an intense heat permeating the soles of his feet. The stone balcony floor had absorbed the morning heat with no welcoming shade. It returned this heat willingly to the soles of his bare feet.
“It’s too hot,” he said hopping around. Shifting his weight from one foot to another, he moved his focus outwards across the courtyard. The sun’s brightness challenged his sensitive eyes. He squinted, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to cut the glare. He moved his eyebrows, to try to provide some natural shade. It was not enough. He lowered his gaze to his broad chest. The black polished Amulet was suspended from a gold chain around his neck. The chain started to feel warm in the sunlight. The Amulet lay flat against his chest. The polished black material seemed to pulse healing energy into his body. He felt strong, like a God residing in the mortal world. He would lead his country proudly and he would lead it well. The Nesu knew he possessed an artifact of great power, a gift from the Gods. He had promised to keep it safe and he would. The Amulet would remain around the Nesu’s neck at all times. This was often dangerous; Gods became fashionable but would often fall out of favor. Regimes change and public opinion changes. At times, it was not prudent to be seen with an adornment favoring Anubis. The Nesu would hide the Amulet from view but kept it close to him at all times. He lived a long and prosperous life, before handing down the Amulet to his successor. This tradition repeated several times, before it finally was handed to King Narmer, the Catfish King.
In Ete’s final days, he became quite ill, suffering from fever and violent spasms. Ete’s brother Adu often cared for him; he comforted him during this time. When Ete asked Adu to contact the Nesu, he was reluctant.
“Are you insane? My dear brother, what makes you confident the almighty Nesu would travel here to see you?”
Ete could hardly talk. His mouth was parched and his tongue dry. With some effort, he managed a response. “Ask for him. Please, I’m sure he will come.”
“Even if he does, what will you tell him? It needs to be good. If you waste his time, he’ll be angry and annoyed. He’ll exact his annoyance upon our family. He’ll kill me for making the request or do something even worse.”
“I know what to say. I have information that…” Ete fell into a spasm so violent, he could not continue.
“You need to convince me. You need to tell me what you’ll discuss. I can’t risk my life, and that of my family, so you get an audience with the Nesu before you die.” Adu looked worried and tried to weigh the consequences.
“You have to. I can’t tell you why; I’ll assure you, the Nesu will not be pleased if you don’t. You’ll stand a chance of far greater reprimand, if you don’t do as I ask.”
“So I can’t win. Thank you brother; I never could win with you. Even as children growing up, I could never win with you.”
“For once in your life Adu, you have to trust me. You have to request an audience. If the Nesu thinks this is a frivolous waste of his time, he will decline. It will be risky for him to leave the palace. I cannot leave this bed. So the choice will be his. You can inform his aides, that you have no knowledge of the purpose of this meeting. You’ve been informed that it’s of grave importance. Then it’s out of your hands. I’ll not let you down, that I can promise.”
“We’re talking life and death. It better be good, you know that right?”
Ete looked at the panic stricken face of his brother. “I know. I wouldn’t put you in this position, if I didn’t think it were that important.”
Was this the request of a delusional dying man, or was there some validity to the request? Would the Nesu take instant offense to the trivialization of his precious time? Would he punish him? After some persuasion, Adu contacted the aides of the Nesu. He demanded a personal visit. To Adu’s surprise, this request was granted immediately. The Nesu, and a considerably large security entourage, visited the dying Ete. Within the small house, a conversation between the Nesu and Ete took place. A guard remained inside the house. The rest of the group waited patiently outside, protecting the Nesu. Ete met with the Nesu in a back room, where his sleeping quarters were located.
Adu offered the guard some wine and food. After 30 minutes he reluctantly accepted, giving in to his stomach’s hunger pangs. The mid afternoon wore on and still the private audience continued. The guard became sleepy and weak. He looked around the room and located two chairs, near the entrance to the sleeping quarters. He decided to rest his weight for a while, in one of the chairs. He would still be strategically placed, to provide protection for his Nesu. Eventually the effects of the food and the wine started to kick in. He was soon snoring in deep sleep, as his large frame slumped across the chair. Adu was curious. What would his dying brother know, that would keep the Nesu engaged this long? What were they talking about? His curiosity got the better of his cautious restraint. He feared being caught, but he could not help himself. He moved to the chair, adjacent to the guard. He closed his eyes, slumped and pretended to be asleep. With his sight gone, he focused his senses on his hearing. He could just hear the faint murmurs of the conversation from the next room. Ete was weak and his voice was not strong. Adu heard enough to comprehend the power of the Amulet. He strained to hear the explanation of the Amulet’s origins. Anubis had given Ete the Amulet. He finally got an explanation for the scars on his brother’s leg.
Adu was an active member of an underground society. His reluctance to approach the Nesu also stemmed from his fear of being exposed. What he heard convinced him that the Nesu were not Gods. They were mortal, but with one important difference. This family of mortals now had access to an Amulet, with powers from the Gods. What other God given artifacts did this family have access to? Was it merely privileged access to items from the Gods that made them powerful? The secret society discussions had centered on the topic that the Nesu were indeed mortal. They were not Gods. This seemed more reasonable, after what he had just heard. The priority now, was to track and locate the Amulet, to gain this power for himself. With knowledge this powerful, it could change the hierarchy within Egypt and the world forever.
A sound, resembling the dragging of a chair, woke the snoozing guard. In a panic, he sprung to his feet and quickly got his bearings. He had dozed off and would be punished if found wanting. He looked at the slumped figure of Adu, who clearly was waking from a deep sleep. Adu remained seated, faking his waking routine for the guard. The door to the sleeping quarters opened and the Nesu emerged, carrying a small Golden box. He glanced at the slumping body of Adu and then the standing erect body, of the guard. Walking quickly, he passed them both, as he exited the small dwelling.
The guard followed, trying to hide the relieved expression etched upon his face. Adu did not wait. He immediately approached his brother, only to find that he had passed away. The guards returned instantly, they informed Adu of the Nesu’s instructions. Later that evening, they removed his body and prepared him in a way far exceeding his social status. Adu remained skeptical of the Nesu’s powers and the claim that he was a God. He remained active in his secret society and changed their main purpose. He would use this group to obtain the Amulet. He named the society, The Order of Ra: after a true God.
* * * * *
Chapter 11: The Book of Byblos
City of London, England, 1890.
The fire raged, illuminating the night sky in the east end of London. Residents were concerned that stray embers would be carried by the generous evening wind. The rain had come and gone, providing little assistance to those who fought the fire. The sounds of shouting, and panic stricken voices could be heard upon the street. People ran to the flames, trying to assist. A small wooden building, owned by the Parkinson family, ignited. The dry wooden structure was soon engulfed, and with it went the family business. The small cobblers shop would not assist people with running repairs, for a while. A crowd of locals had gathered to fight the fires. It was now seemingly contained; they were gaining the upper hand. A stroke of luck had helped save the original building. The fire had started in the older section, at the rear of the house. Thick walls, made from stone, had surrounded and contained the flames. The fortunate part of the night’s events occurred when a main support beam gave way, collapsing the roof. The older section of the roof came crashing into the house. This preserved the remaining section of the roof; it prevented the rest of the house from burning. The library and the newer section of the house were saved.
Paul Smith had managed to escape through the rear of the house. His torso and neck were badly burned. His clothes had seared into his skin; he was in excruciating pain. He managed to stagger back to his lodgings, with every step hurting beyond the next. He wrapped himself in an old cloth that he found on the street. It looked like a canvas sack; the type merchants would wrap produce in. The fresh night air felt like a thousand daggers, piercing his exposed burned skin. He staggered through the crowds, trying to evade attention. Back in his room, he managed to partially undress. It was painful; removing clothing attached to his skin was unbearable. He looked at himself in a mirror and could see the damage. It was bad; his body was going into shock. He had to do something, but what?
Paul was no Doctor but he knew he could clean his wounds with alcohol. He had a large bottle of Scotch in his room. He poured the amber liquid over his neck and shoulder area. He recoiled instantly from the pain. It was like pouring hot oil onto his torso. He screamed loudly; he was surprised nobody came to investigate. The Scotch continued to burn; he would not repeat this on other parts of his body. He raised the Scotch bottle and gulped a large mouthful. Perhaps it would dull the pain? The heat in his throat was nothing compared to the tight heat his body was feeling. He was in bad shape and he needed something to distract his mind, from the constant pain.
He walked gingerly over to the bed and managed to lie on his back. The pain was blistering, his exposed skin felt raw. He had shoved the book, retrieved from the library, into his jacket pocket. He reached for his jacket and fished out the book. It looked old and was covered in Egyptian symbols. Some of the pages had text, but it was not written entirely in English. He flipped to a page that he could read. He read as much as he could, gingerly turning the pages and trying not to move his badly burnt arms. He concentrated, trying to comprehend the ancient text. For a while, he lost himself in the book and managed to block out the burning pain. It was like a river, forever forging a path to his brain. Eventually no matter how hard he would try, the pain would wash into his brain and swirl around in an uncontrollable manner.
After reading for an hour, he let the book fall to his side. He lay silent and tried not to move. Movement was painful, very painful. He lay still, with his eyes closed. He tried to regulate his breathing and think through the pain. It seemed to work for a while, until the river of pain would swell and flood his brain. He tried to think of Claire; how beautiful she looked. She would not find him desirable now; a burnt shell of a man. He felt fluid in his throat and coughed violently. He raised a painful hand to his mouth and saw blood. He coughed again and this time felt no pain. Eventually his body gave out, his heart stopped pumping. He took his last long breath and slipped into unconsciousness. Lying motionless on his bed, he passed away with the precious book still at his side.
It was the following morning, when Anne the chambermaid, found Paul Smith. She came to work happy; her wedding day approached. She had known Joseph for two years and was certain that he was the one. He had ambition, having started as a barrow boy. He had worked hard; he now owned his stall at the market. He was a bright lad and was going places. She had confidence in his abilities and she loved him. Joseph had fallen in love with Anne the moment he had seen her. She came to the market to buy fruit. It did not take them long to realize they were meant to be together. There was instant chemistry. They each felt the attraction; it had not faded yet. Joseph adored Anne; they were soon living over the broom. It was an arrangement of convenience. London was an expensive place to live. Anne wanted to legitimize their relationship and so they saved. They both took night jobs, to earn a little extra. Joseph did not come from a wealthy family but they were happy. She was a slim woman and was described as having a slight frame. From an early age, she had to work hard to earn her keep. Anne always had a job with a physical aspect to it. From her time as a little girl, she had to work hard. She was small and slim but exceptionally strong and fit. Joseph wore the same clothes each day to work in the market. It was often a dirty job, frequently exposed to the elements. Anne tried to imagine Joseph wearing new clean clothes; having freshly bathed. The morning of the wedding would be magical. She had his face on her mind as she entered her next room to clean.
Anne knocked on the door, wrapping her knuckles. “Hello, Chambermaid.” She waited for a response and heard nothing, “Chambermaid?” The lack of a response signaled an approval to enter the room. As soon as she entered, the strong pungent smell of burnt cloth entered her nostrils. Her focus went to the bed, where a motionless figure lay silent. “Please accept my apologies Sir. I shouldn’t have entered.” The phrase fell from Anne’s lips, almost by habit. She had walked in on guests before. Some guest’s sleep, some are hard of hearing. Something felt wrong. She did not turn and leave right away she continued to stare at the figure on the bed. It was an odd scene. He was lying on the bed, his bottom half was fully clothed, including his boots. He was naked from the waist up and reeked of Scotch. His body looked blackened and covered in sores. His chest was still, no rise and fall. Anne inched forward; she walked around the bed to take a closer look. She could see a pile of burnt clothes, crumpled in an untidy heap on the floor. She could smell the burnt fabric and see the singed cloth. She looked at his torso, neck and arms. This poor man had sustained considerable burns.
Anne prodded the man with her fingers as she watched him lay motionless. She knew he was dead. “Oh my, what have you done?” she said quietly, out of respect. Anne looked at the bed. She saw his lifeless body; now at peace. She took a good look, starting at his feet and working her way up. His arms were resting at his sides. Propped against one of his forearms, appeared to be a book. Anne reached for the book and lifted it from the bed carefully. It looked old, with symbols she could not understand. She flicked open a couple of pages; it appeared to have some writing in English. She recognized a few words; she never managed to grasp the art of reading. Joseph could read, he would know what this said. The book looked old and different. She had seen books before, this looked different. It contained pictures that seemed to be hand drawn. The book smelled of fire. She had heard about a fire a few streets away, she wondered if this man had been burned while trying to help? With the book in her hand, Anne faced a decision that tortured her for the rest of her life. She was a good woman and not prone to stealing. This book looked old and expensive. Who would know if she took the book? Joseph knew people in the market, people that collect this type of stuff. Perhaps it might be worth a Bob or two? Any money would certainly help with the wedding right now.
She agonized for over a minute, until she realized that she was in danger of being found with the body. She could lose her opportunity. She tucked the book deeply into her pocket and sounded the alarm. When the men arrived, she left the room to transfer the book to her other coat. After a short while, a man in charge wanted to question her. She returned to the room, barely able to look at the body. It was quickly established that she was an innocent person in this intriguing case. The chambermaid provided details of her discovery willingly. She was soon dismissed, as the dead body was clearly upsetting her and making her nervous. The owner of the hotel gave the chambermaid the rest of the day off.
“Go home and pull yourself together. I’ll expect you back here first thing in the morning.” He smiled sympathetically, then turned and shook his head at her delicate constitution.
“Yes Sir, thank you Sir,” said Anne still feeling guilty.
Anne did not go straight home; she headed for the market with the smoke filled book burning a hole in her pocket. Was she doing the right thing? Would she get caught? Would the inquisitive man, back at the room, figure out she had the book? Would this implicate her in that man’s death?” She raced to the market, tightly clutching her coat to her body. When she reached Joseph’s stall he was busy. She managed to catch his eye; she seemed concerned. He served a customer, and then made his way over to the side of his stall.
“Are you okay? Is there anything wrong?” he asked, expecting her to be at work.
“They sent me home. I’m okay, a man died in one of my rooms and I found him this morning,” she stammered.
“Come on governor! I can’t wait all day. Do you want me to buy something or not?” said a large man holding some apples.
“I’ll be right there.” Joseph looked at Anne and pulled a face. She could tell he was busy and had to go. He wanted to stay and talk but he had to sell his produce; he had people waiting to buy. Customers could easily go to other stalls, so he had to go.
“Come straight home tonight, it’s important, promise me,” shouted Anne above the noise.
“Sure,” said Joseph, trying to juggle too many tasks.
At the end of a long hard day, Joseph closed his stall for the night and hurried home. It had been a good day. His takings were twice that of a normal day, a welcome bonus this close to the wedding. He arrived home to find his meal on the table, Anne looked awful. She looked worried and concerned. She paced throughout dinner, as she watched him eat his food. He knew something was wrong, he could feel it. “How did the man in the room die?”
“It looked like he suffered from severe burns and came back to his room. He died from his burns, I think.” Anne twirled her hair around her fingers.
“This has really upset you, right? Have you seen a dead body before?”
“That’s not it,” said Anne, finally looking at Joseph.
Anne explained to Joseph what had transpired, that fateful morning. She described the book and her feelings around taking it. He listened intently and finally spoke. “Can I see it?” Anne went to her coat, to retrieve the book. It felt dirty to her now; she did not want to touch it. She gave it to Joseph. The book still had the pungent smell of burning, still clinging to its pages. The smell reminded her of that poor man. Joseph examined the book’s cover; he turned it over to look at its back. “I think it’s old.”
Joseph studied the pages and read the text. That night, he read well into the dark hours. Anne hated herself for what she had done. Joseph refused to pass any moral judgment. He read the contents out aloud, so Anne could understand the book. They both looked at the hand drawn diagrams and followed its contents. As books go, it was an interesting tale, with no real conclusion. The book described a secret society, consisting of two principal characters.
The Soul Collector was a person responsible for protecting a Golden box. A diagram of the box was drawn on page 14. The Keeper had the responsibility of keeping the Amulet safe. The Amulet looked like a dog’s head, according to the drawing on page 18. The story talked about the Golden box and the Amulet. The Keeper and the Soul Collector wore identical rings. A diagram of the rings was meticulously drawn on page 24. Anne could not recall if the burned man was wearing a ring. The book told a fanciful tale about the consequences of the Amulet being placed within the Golden box. If this were to occur, a gateway to another world would be opened. Some of the words had little meaning to Joseph. Perhaps an educated man could make sense of the script. It talked about Anubis and Duat. Duat was the other world. It was a fanciful tale, but it had no real ending. Perhaps this was a novel still under development. The appeared to be old; the author was not identified on either its front or spine. The last completed page, was a drawing of a wooden paneled wall. The drawing looked recent, with library shelves and books. An arrow pointed to the carving of a dog’s head. The head was shown to rotate. Another drawing within the side margin, showed a hidden compartment. It was an odd book. It seemed to be part story, part illustrations. The book appeared to be a collection of random thoughts. Different people had added material over the years. Perhaps each person would add to the ongoing evolution of the story. A clever concept, which leaves the story fragmented.
The fact that the book seemed authentic and unique meant it could be valuable. “That’s it?” said Anne disappointed.
“That’s it. Just blank pages left in the book.” Joseph seemed equally disappointed.
“Well I don’t think we’re going to add to the book, so we should see what we can get for it?” said Anne expectantly.
“Did anyone see you take it?” Joseph looked serious.
“No, I’m quite sure of that.”
Joseph thought about the consequences. “Here’s what we should do. Go back to work tomorrow and see if the book is even missed. If people are expecting to see the book, they will ask you if you saw it. Always say no, you didn’t see anything. Tell them, you were too upset at seeing the body to notice anything. Tell them, that you can’t read. Only offer this information, if they ask you directly,” said Joseph trying to help.
Anne did not like to lie. She was never any good at concealing anything. Taking the book was so out of character for her. “I’m not good at twisting the truth.”
“Don’t worry, you won’t need to. They won’t notice it’s gone. Just keep quiet and see how the day goes.” Joseph scratched the back of his hand with his nail.
“What if they notice me, acting strange?” Anne had serious reservations.
“Tell them that you’re still a little shaken from seeing the body, they’ll understand.”
“What then?” Anne looked at Joseph with doubt in her eyes.
“If nothing happens tomorrow, it means they don’t know that you took the book. I’ll wait until the end of the week. If nobody is asking about it, then I’ll take it to the bookstore, next to the butchers. I should be able to get something for it and I’ll tell them it was a gift from a customer.”
“I’m seeing a different side of you Joseph. One that seems comfortable distorting the truth,” said Anne in a serious tone.
“You’re right. I should return it to the innkeeper and inform him that my wife-to-be is a thief.” Joseph wished he had not said those words, the moment they spilled from his mouth. He was tired and irritable.
“I suppose, I deserved that. It was me, who stole the book.”
“I’m just trying to figure out a way for us to profit from your actions, with no repercussions.” Anne looked at Joseph with a puzzled look. She did not understand his large vocabulary. Joseph explained, “We have to make sure we don’t get caught.”
The next day, Anne reported to work as normal; she tried to keep out of sight by doing extra chores. She was not asked additional questions and was left to her duties. She felt on-edge the entire day; she wondered if her decision was worth her feelings of guilt. The day dragged and although she was busy, it seemed like a day with longer hours. When it was time to leave, she found herself looking over her shoulder. She left via the servant’s entrance, at the back of the hotel. As the week wore on, her interactions felt more normal and she relaxed. Joseph prepared to take the book down to the market today. They would learn how much they would get for it.
It was early; the market was setting up for another busy day. Joseph walked past his usual stall and did not stop to prepare his wares. He walked briskly towards the butcher’s; they seemed to be taking an early delivery of meat. He did not stop to chatter with the butchers, like he had done so often before. They waved as he passed by. Joseph turned the corner and approached the bookstore. He was not a consumer of books and had never been inside the store. Mr. Charleston was a portly man who seemed to know everyone in the market. He was clearly an educated man; he often bought fruit from Joseph’s stall. Joseph knew him only as a customer. Joseph approached the door and stared at the closed sign. He peered through the glass and spotted movement inside. He knocked lightly on the wooden frame, pushing his face closer to the glass.
Mr. Charleston lifted his head and bellowed from the back, “We’re not open yet.”
Joseph knocked again. This time Mr. Charleston turned to see who was being persistent. He recognized Joseph’s smiling face through the glass and hurried to the door. Unlatching the door, he opened it enough to peer around the frame.
“What’s so important young man, that you would leave your stall?”
“I need to come in and show you something, in private.”
“I don’t usually let people into the store before opening hours,” he said with a concerned look racing across his portly face.
“I thought we could discuss this,” said Joseph waving the book under Mr. Charleston’s nose. He cast a curious eye upon the cover and listened to his heart racing above its normal beat. He was not afforded a chance to inspect the book; he could tell it was rare. He liked old books and he wanted to see more.
The fish was hooked. “Come in; let’s see what you’ve got.”
Both men entered the store; the door was locked behind them. Mr. Charleston led Joseph to the rear of the store. A large wooden table was placed near a window, affording a space for the sunlight to stream in. He inspected the cover closely. He turned the book to look at the back and the binding.
“It’s very interesting. It smells of ash. It’s very interesting indeed.” He opened the book and started to read the contents.
What’s it worth?” asked Joseph impatiently.
“Don’t know yet. Where did you find this?”
“A customer gave it to me. Guess he ran out of money, everyone has to eat,” said Joseph, as honestly as he could.
Mr. Charleston continued to inspect the pages. He had never seen anything like it; he recognized a few languages of long ago. The book was entirely hand written and hand drawn. It was authentic and very collectible. Did this fruit stall owner know what he had? There was no time to evaluate it and his story sounded suspicious. “I’m not sure what this is. It just looks like a journal or a handwritten story. A few of these books exist, where people pass them on and they just add to the story as it circulates. The problem is, people with limited writing skills and limited illustration skills, add to the book. Your book is not even written in the same consistent language. I’ll take it off your hands, because it’s old. To be honest with you, I’ll have trouble selling it to anyone.”
“How much is it worth?”
“I can give you a pound for it,”
Joseph wanted to barter. “Three pounds or I’ll take it elsewhere.”
“Two and that’s my last offer.”
“Three,” said Joseph defiantly.
Mr. Charleston played his gamble. He shook his head and pushed the book towards Joseph. “Then I bid you good day.”
The look of horror registered upon Joseph’s face, he quickly re-engaged. “I’ll take two pounds.”
“Good, two it is,” he shook Joseph’s hand vigorously and moved to his money drawer. Joseph had done well; Anne would be pleased. Joseph walked away excited with the money they had received. The bookstore owner was more excited, knowing he had stumbled across something special. What he did not know was how special this book was. He managed to find a linguist; he seemed to be able to decipher a few of the pages. He explained that the title of the book was, “The Book of Byblos.” A collector from Paris bought the book; an addition to his collection of Egyptian antiquities. The book sold for five pounds, returning a handsome profit. The book disappeared from sight, until an art collector in Madrid bought the book for an undisclosed amount of money. The book was deemed to be authentic. The government of Egypt had no rights to reclaim it as a stolen Egyptian treasure. It was not conclusively proven that the book originated in Egypt. After several opportunities for translation, various linguistic experts translated the entire book. The book told a coherent and fanciful tale, based upon one of the most enduring ancient Egyptian legends.
The book’s pages had been added to, over the years. Countless individuals contributed but each remained anonymous. Four languages were used to tell the tale, with only one page hinting at an author. One of the diagrams appeared to have the initials, “REA” written in a corner. The book described a set of rings and a secret compartment; it lacked the actual location. The modern entries seemed to be deliberately vague, when it came to locations. Places were described in vivid detail but it was impossible to locate these places. They sounded real, but could they have been the products of a fertile imagination? The book was interesting but nobody could be sure. Did it chronicle an actual society, sworn to a secret mission? Was it a fanciful exercise of collective story telling? Was it fact or fiction? From that standpoint, the book was interesting. It proved to be desirable for any educated collector.
It was certainly a unique book that became well known, within the private collector space. When the wealthy Madrid-based wine merchant passed away, his spouse reviewed his collection of valuable books. Outlined in his will, he had left specific instructions on how his collection should be dismantled. He established a minimum price for the book. He offered it for sale to a collector he had befriended in London. His friend had admired the book and believed the accounts detailed within to be true. The widow contacted the banker in London. The banker was pleased to be given the first right of refusal on this unique piece. He paid above the minimum price, because the book had always intrigued him. He tried to rationalize why people from different backgrounds would keep the book updated, if this were merely fantasy. He believed in the story and he believed in the book’s contents.
The modern day resting place for “The Book of Byblos,” was deep within a bank security vault, in London, England.
* * * * *
Chapter 12: The Meeting of the Magicians
Upper Egypt, 3150 B.C.
It was a special day at the palace, there seemed to be an electrical charge sparking through the dry air. Bener-ib tried to go about her business in a normal way; she knew today could change the course of history. She walked along a wide stone hallway, admiring the craftsmanship. Workers had pieced together the large stone slabs with unparallel precision. At the far end of the hallway, she could see a figure approaching. It was clearly a woman, her hips swayed as she walked. She kept her head bent downwards, obscuring her face. Bener-ib wore a thin gold band around her head; it glistened against her long straight black hair. As the woman approached, she became aware of a presence within the hallway. Aya lifted her eyes, to focus on the approaching woman. She adjusted her gaze to the changing light and found herself looking at the beautiful face of Bener-ib. Aya felt the rush of blood course through her veins, her faced flushed with sudden anger. She resented her beauty; she resented the way she flaunted it with the Nesu. Aya was fiercely loyal to Queen Nithotep; she really disliked the woman approaching.
What should she do? There was no way of avoiding her and she did not want to acknowledge her. She wished she had a knife, ready to plunge deep into her wicked soul. The two women drew closer. Bener-ib recognized Aya, she was a servant she had seen attending to Queen Nithotep. She fixed her gaze upon the eyes of the approaching woman. She was smaller in height and had a welcoming face. Most men would concede that she was attractive, but not beautiful. Aya raised her eyes to meet Bener-ib, she flashed a look filled with pent up anger and frustration. Bener-ib smiled and nodded out of respect; her gesture was rebuffed. Men are often described as simpler creatures; they remain calm until excited. Once agitated, it is not uncommon for men to manifest their feelings through immediate acts of violence. Men can be quite volatile. Women are more intuitive and can react to the smallest things. Women are generally more in touch with their feelings; some would say they use logic to confirm their intuition.
That chance passing in the hallway would have seemed innocent to a man. Within seconds, an exchange had occurred that only women would understand. A battle line had been drawn and a tone had been set. It had started with an innocent gesture of mutual respect. Bener-ib knew she was clearly the more beautiful and desirable. She afforded a smile and a polite nod of the head. Aya met this gesture with a snub. The snub was delivered by refusing to nod her head or reciprocate with a smile. Why was that? Aya’s body language was tense and she made no attempt to slow her stride or acknowledge Bener-ib. These acts are a subtle form of feminine passive hostility. Aya’s stare was infused with hatred, resentment, anger and loyalty. Strong emotions, transmitted through silence. Bener-ib would have felt this; like a knife piercing her heart from a relative stranger. She has experienced resentment and jealousy before but this was different. This was hatred. Hate is a strong word but this woman hated her. What had she done? She had clearly raised her anger beyond any petty jealousy. As the two women passed each other, Bener-ib turned at the waist. She looked over her shoulder at the scorned stranger passing her. Aya continued to walk briskly with her head pointed forward, as if Bener-ib had never been there. Bener-ib felt the bad energy. She could not recall doing this woman harm. She shook her head and proceeded to the great hall.
The hall had been prepared the evening before. Aides had worked tirelessly to follow exact instructions from their Queen. Two chairs were facing the room; each elevated upon a decorated wooden stage. One of the chairs was designed for the Nesu. To his left, another chair was positioned for the Queen. Facing the ceremonial chairs were two smaller chairs, about twelve feet apart and separated by a long table. The table had been stocked with fruit, wine, beer, water and an assortment of the finest foods. Two very important visitors were expected at the palace. The guards were placed on high alert. Bener-ib approached the hall as the servants were concluding their preparations. Nithotep scanned the room, she decided the layout was exactly as her husband had requested. Bener-ib approached Nithotep with her palms clearly visible and her arms at her side.
“My Queen, I trust everything is in order?”
Nithotep had not talked with Bener-ib, so the approach had surprised her. Nithotep stumbled through a response, “Yes, we have the hall prepared as instructed.”
“May I inquire; has the great Magician of the north arrived at the palace yet?” Bener-ib suspected the answer to be no; she hoped she would gain some insight into his timing.
“I have word that they are imminent.”
“My Queen, I’m sorry to have misled you but…”
“I understand, my husband has explained everything. Now go and prepare, they’ll be here soon.” Queen Nithotep was pleased with the thoughtful apology but she still needed more time to make the room perfect. Bener-ib turned and walked towards the door to the hall. She saw large heavily armed guards receiving orders from a military commander. They were pointing to the door and the approaching hallway. As Bener-ib walked away, she caught a glimpse of a familiar servant. With hips swaying, she recognized Aya bringing wine to the table. Aya caught the glance and returned it with her usual stone-faced look. Bener-ib shook her head once more and left the hall to prepare for the afternoon.
The preparations continued, when a guard appeared and approached the Queen cautiously. He was invited to deliver his message. Bes and his team of guards had finally arrived at the palace. He was immediately escorted to a royal suite, awaiting the Queen. If all had gone well, he would have returned with the Magician of the south. If he had returned empty handed, he would know his fate. The palace seemed to buzz with whispered conversations and elaborate stories. Each story was supplemented, making it more incredible. The palace staff recognized that Bes, and his two companions, had returned without the Magician. They could not be sure. Some said, the Magician had the power to deceive the eye and walked past the palace guards undetected. Others speculated that the Magician turned into a small spider. He was resting comfortably within the Golden box that Bes carried. The stories were fanciful but one thing was certain; nobody had seen the Magician of the south.
The Queen hurried to the royal suite and prepared for the important visitor. Aya gossiped with a few of the palace staff. She heard wondrous tales of the mysterious Magician of the south. Some said he was the most talented Magician that ever lived; he had dark powers. Aya wanted to see him and wondered why he had been escorted back to the palace? Perhaps the Queen was planning to ask the Magician to help with her revenge towards Bener-ib? Aya caught herself smiling at the thought. She needed to see this powerful man. She decided to run an errand, in order to create a need for her to be present. Aya sought out a large jug of cool drinking water and headed for the private suite. The guards would assume Queen Nithotep had ordered Aya to bring refreshments for her guest. As Aya approached the hallway, a guard stopped her and peered into the translucent pool of cool water. Satisfied that she was not concealing anything within the jug, she was waved through. Aya walked towards the entrance to the suite; two more guards were stationed outside. The tallest guard stepped forward and inspected her cargo. Aya peered into the room, her view obstructed. She could see the back of her Queen and recognized the cool white robes that she wore. To her left was a figure; she could only see a small amount of green colored cloth.
“The Queen must be talking with the Magician,” thought Aya. She was soon waved forward and she approached the suite’s entrance. Aya stopped and bowed her head in respect. The Queen wheeled around to see Aya carrying a large water vase.
“Aya, what do you have there?” asked the Queen impatiently.
“Cool refreshing water my Queen; your guest must be thirsty, after the long journey.” Aya raised her eyes; they widened visibly at the scene that lay before her. Bes was standing directly in front of Aya; he was a fine specimen of a man. He was muscular, tall and possessed piercing brown eyes shielded with thick black eyebrows. Aya dwelled her gaze upon Bes for a second before responding to the Queen’s order.
“Put the water here and leave us.” Nithotep pointed to a small table, pushed against a wall.
Moving towards the table, she decided to sneak a look at the third person standing in the room. The sight of the mighty Magician of the south was too much to resist. She placed the jug down gently. She turned her head quickly, raising her eyes to take in his image. Her eyes widened and the blood rushed into her cheeks, as she digested the sight. It took a moment for her brain to register what she was seeing. Her cheeks tingled with rage, like the shifting sand blown by the desert wind. A short distance in front of her was a beautiful woman, dressed in a gown the likes she had never seen before. The gown had a hood and shimmered as it clung to her body. The material looked shiny and was a brilliant green color.
The gown covered her entire body, just stopping short of her bare toes. Her hood covered the back and sides of her head. Aya could see her beautiful face as clear as a morning vista. Aya was hurt and angry. It was Bener-ib, trying on the robe of the famous Magician. What was she doing here? Why would the Queen allow her in this suite? Why was she being dismissed and Bener-ib allowed to stay and watch proceedings? Perhaps this was part of her elaborate revenge plan?
Aya knew Bener-ib would get what she deserved but her presence irked her immensely. The sooner the Queen would deal with that tiresome nuisance, the better. Where was the Magician? Perhaps the Magician was the figure in the robe? “He’s changed his face to represent the person you like the least! Clever, very clever,” thought Aya. Her soft smile dropped as she retreated from the room.
The Queen spoke directly to Bener-ib; she had asked about a spell. Still unsure why Bener-ib was being afforded these special privileges, Aya’s blood was boiling. She needed to teach this woman a lesson. When the Nesu returned to the palace, Bener-ib would surely start to flirt with him again. Aya retreated with a plan formulating in her head.
Aya knew the Queen did not have the heart for what was needed. She feared he husband’s reaction. Bener-ib would live a charmed life, living off her beauty until the Nesu tired of her. Until then, the Queen had to suffer this indignity. The Nesu would keep his favorite dalliance right under her nose. This had to be stopped; Aya would be the one to stop it. She walked to the rear of the palace and entered the Nesu’s private quarters. She knew he had left the palace; she would sense the rise in activity upon his return. The guards were preoccupied with imminent arrivals to worry about the rear of the palace. The lone guard was easily fooled into waving Aya through. She made an excuse that the Queen needed her comb.
Aya grabbed the comb from the Queen’s sleeping quarters, she moved quickly into an adjacent room. She had attended the Queen countless times and had followed her as she walked through each room. She had noticed a spectacular gift the Nesu had received from a tradesman. The gift ratified an agreement. This gift was given in exchange for safe passage. The merchant would often travel through a notoriously dangerous part of Egypt. The merchant would transport valuable merchandize. He would now be afforded the right to fly the royal standard; this was enough to warrant his safe passage.
In return, he gifted the Nesu with a spectacular dagger. It was meant as a showpiece item; the Nesu displayed it on a table next to his bed. The handle was black with a brilliant red gem set into each side. The blade was made from gold. The finest craftsmen had worked upon this piece. A popular legend described how this dagger had once belonged to the Gods. It was only right that the Nesu should keep it. The boat people had managed to plunder it for a while; their greed drove them to sell it for a profit.
It was heavy but Aya managed to conceal it within her robes. She flashed the comb to the ambivalent guard. She smiled at him, to distract him but he seemed more interested in his sore feet. She crinkled her nose in disgust; the guard would have a different reaction if it were Bener-ib passing his curious eyes. She would wait for one of two opportunities. She would not know which would come first. The Nesu would return to the palace, throwing the guards and the aides into an elaborate dance. Nobody would be paying attention to her or the lowly Bener-ib. Alternatively the arrival of the Magician of the north would have the same effect. The place was buzzing with a powerful story. The Nesu had sent Amman and Bes to summon the two most powerful Magicians in the kingdom. This seemed to be fact, what was pure conjecture was the reason behind the summons.
The Nesu and his Queen both looked healthy; some speculated they were having trouble producing an heir. Magicians were not the usual people to assist with such delicate issues. Aya would need to keep close to Bener-ib and seize her chance when she could. That afternoon seemed to drag as Aya tried to locate her prey. It seemed that Bener-ib never left the safe sanctuary of the suite of the Magician. To add to the danger, guards were posted and Bes never faltered in his duty to guard the inhabitants. Aya was getting increasingly frustrated; her opportunities simply did not exist. She needed to bide her time, neither the Nesu nor the Magician had arrived yet.
The palace erupted in activity with staff running around and senior aides gathering quickly. Word spread that Amman was escorting the great Magician of the north through the palace entrance. It was true; Amman made a show that he had been successful in his mission. It was a pity that the Nesu was not present to see Amman in his finest moment. The Magician, in contrast, seemed overwhelmed. He quietly followed Amman’s huge frame into the palace’s reception area. The Magician Ka was greeted personally by the Queen and shown to a private suite. The guards were doubled and Amman was instructed not to leave Ka’s side. Aya slipped towards the first suite; she was disappointed to hear familiar voices. She approached the guard and informed him that she needed to replenish the water. She looked into the room and could hear Bes talking. She could not see Bener-ib but she could hear her voice.
“That sly fox, she’s not left the suite since I first entered with water. She’s pouring her beauty all over Bes. She knows how to exploit a man’s frailties. Her beauty would blind any man’s sense of judgment. Where was the Magician?” thought Aya. She looked at the guard and shook her head. “It appears they don’t need anything. Please call for me if they need more water or food.” The guard sneered; he did not appreciate the request or the instruction.
The palace continued with its air of excitement, the Magician drew curious looks from the staff. Ka had the ability to appear frail and old. He walked with a slight shuffle, usually reserved for the elderly. Amman had seen him straighten his crooked back growing in power and youth instantly. This Magician was deceptive; he could offer a persona that suited the occasion. It was difficult to put an age on him; many said he was over two hundred years old. With Magicians, their reputations were often more valuable than their skills. Amman was a fine soldier and a muscle bound hero. Very few men would even contemplate a physical dual with him. His prowess on the battlefield caught the palace’s attention. He was selected to guard the Nesu at the royal palace. Amman escorted the withered old man to his suite. He was still rubbing his palm and the imaginary blisters from his burnt hand. He had gained immense respect for the powers of this seemingly frail old man.
The Queen explained to Ka, that the Nesu was expected shortly. He seemed surprised and suspicious that the Nesu was away. The palace went about their business and calm descended once more. Aya recognized Amman; she caught a brief glimpse of the powerful Magician of the north. Once Ka was settled into his suite, the Nesu arrived at the royal palace eager to meet his guests.
“My Queen, has the other Magician arrived yet?” asked Ka.
“Yes, both Magicians are comfortably housed within the palace. I suggest you rest and replenish after your journey. You will want for nothing while you stay in the royal palace. Later, the Nesu will ask you to join us in the great hall. I expect your summons will then become clear.” The Queen smiled respectfully and hurried to greet her husband. Escorted by a guard, she moved to the front of the palace to join her husband. He was changing his clothes. He selected a set of special robes, used for meeting important guests.
“Are they both here and ready?”
“Yes. Everything is in order, just as you specified.” Nithotep felt pleased.
“Is the great hall prepared as I instructed?”
“Exactly how you instructed. I saw to that personally.”
The Queen suddenly felt nervous around her own husband. “The staff seems on edge, or is it me thinking that way?”
“We’ve had a day of arrivals. The staff and the aides have been talking. What they don’t know they seem to create with their limited imaginations.”
“That must be it.” The Nesu tied his robe; it concealed the Amulet hanging from his neck. He reached into his robe and pulled the black Anubis pendant from inside. He let it rest, clearly in sight, upon his collarbone.
“Where are the rings?”
“I have them stored over here.” Nithotep prayed that the rings were where she had left them. She opened a small wooden box; inside she could see a crumpled cloth. She nervously extracted the cloth and opened it within her trembling fingers. There, like two stars shining in the black sky of night, were the two custom gold rings.
“Let me see them,” said Nesu Narmer, walking towards Nithotep. She placed the wooden box upon the table and removed the cloth from her hand. Cradled within her bare palm, the two rings looked perfect. On each side of the polished grey stone, were the symbols of a Catfish and a Chisel. The rings contained the symbols of Nesu Narmer, the God who unified Egypt into one land. Seth had done an amazing job; Nithotep had made her husband proud. He looked at the rings and switched his attention to Nithotep’s eyes. “You’ve done well my Queen. I could not have asked for more. Keep them safe for now,” he said closing her fingers around the rings and pressing them into her closed fist. “We must go to the great hall, let’s start this important night.”
Nithotep ran her hand up her husband’s strong forearm, holding onto him gently. “You’re doing the right thing. If you have any doubts, I’m certain that you’re doing the right thing.” She stared deep into his eyes and showed a sign of strength that he’d not seen before. “Breaking with tradition is hard; you have to make tradition. You change the rules, for it was you who united our land into one.”
Nesu Narmer smiled placing his hand on top of hers. “I had doubts, but today I don’t. The Gods are with me; I can feel them. Humans are incredible creatures. They’re full of hate, insecurities and doubt. Then they can surprise you, with love, passion and honor. At some point in your life, you have to trust them. My day has come.
Together, they walked towards the great hall. The hall was configured just as the Nesu had instructed. The Nesu asked the guards to move further down the long approach hallway. From that vantage point, they would not hear the conversations taking place. He cleared the room of servants and approached the table. “You’ve done well, this is perfect.” He reached in for a grape and tossed it into his mouth in one smooth movement. He stood in front of the Magician’s chairs and paced his way to the raised stage. Eight paces as instructed. He invited Queen Nithotep to join him and motioned for her to sit. “Guard,” he said in his normal tone and volume. When no guard appeared, he smiled. At his feet lay the Golden box, concealing the two rings. Amman and Bes appeared at the entrance; they paused, with their heads bowed. “Enter. Bring our honored guests before me.”
The guards escorted the Magicians to their seats; both remained standing until they were asked to sit. Each guard took a protective position on the platform facing the Magicians. Amman stood to the right of the Nesu. Bes positioned himself to the left of Queen Nithotep. Each Magician stood in silence facing the Nesu. Bener-ib wore a long shimmering robe. Her hood covered her head, casting a shadow upon her face. Her beauty was concealed but her small slim frame indicated that she was female. Ka was surprised; he had expected a weathered old man. Ka looked old, resting upon his cane and wearing simple clothes. His hair had turned gray and his eyes were sunken, surrounded by dark circles. He had worry lines etched into his forehead and face. His shoulders looked like they had seen too much sun. His flesh hung on his tired frame; he looked old and withered. They both stood in silence, waiting for the Nesu to begin.
The Nesu started with a slight air of uncertainty. His strong tone became more assured as he continued. “Welcome to you both. Welcome Bener-ib, the wise and beautiful Magician of the south. Welcome Ka, the greatest Magician of the north. I asked you to meet with me today for an important reason. I’ll explain to you, in great detail, the nature of your visit. It’s a matter of great importance. I don’t bring you here today for entertainment. I don’t bring you here today in competition. I’ll need you both to cooperate and combine your talents. I’m not interested in a competition. I don’t need to know who the greatest Magician is. We’ve more important things to accomplish. I do need to know, that I can trust you. I’ll need you to show me something. I’ll need convincing, that the two people standing before me today are who you say you are.” The Nesu paused for effect. He pointed at the hooded Bener-ib.
“My Nesu, I see you have my gift to you; the Golden box.” Bener-ib lowered her eyes to the box at the Nesu’s feet. Ka felt awkward; he’d never been summoned to the royal palace before. He was not aware of the protocol. He shook his head slightly, knowing that a gift would have made a favorable impression. Bener-ib continued, “I need to trouble you for a simple bowl of water. The bowl has to be large enough to submerge my hands.” The Nesu nodded knowingly; he flashed a look at Queen Nithotep. Nithotep rose instantly and walked from the stage towards the entrance to the hall. She looked concerned. She felt the irritation welling up in the pit of her stomach. Had the Nesu asked her for this? Had she forgot to make this preparation or was this simply a new request? The look on his face suggested that he knew she would ask for this. Nithotep was disappointed and could not control her irritation. She walked the long hall and snapped at a guard. “Get me Aya, now.” The guard scurried away like an insect heading for the dark.
Aya ran the length of the hallway to meet her Queen. “Don’t run,” she barked, clearly annoyed. “Bener-ib would like a bowl of fresh water, large enough to submerge both of her hands.” Aya looked at her Queen, as if this were some degrading request. Why would the Queen be asked to convey such a message on behalf of a servant? Was this Nesu Narmer’s way of humiliating the Queen? Aya wanted to ask but clearly her Queen was angry and upset. This was embarrassing; the Nesu was flaunting her beauty by asking the Queen to be subservient. Why was Bener-ib allowed in the great hall with those distinguished Magicians? Clearly the Nesu wanted her there for her looks. This would be at the expense of Nithotep’s dignity. Something needed to be done and Aya was the one to do it.
She would get her chance when she brought the water. She would have to kill Bener-ib and she would suffer the consequences. Her Queen was worth it; she would reward her loyalty in the afterlife. Aya turned silently to fetch the water as requested. Her eyes glowed hot with hatred and revenge. The Nesu looked at Ka; Queen Nithotep returned to her seat. “The great Ka from the north, how will you prove your worth?”
Ka quickly stepped forward; he caused the ever cautious Amman and Bes to reach for their weapons. “Easy, that’s as far as I’ll approach. I want my Nesu to see my powers. Ka leaned heavily upon his waking shaft. He twirled in a circle and the shaft fell to the floor. He dropped to his knees and gestured with his hands. He drew attention to his once stiff walking shaft. It was now moving. It coiled into a set of smaller circles as a snake emerged. The shaft had turned into a Naja Haje, or Egyptian Cobra. The snake remained coiled, trying to locate a position of safety in an open room. Both guards recoiled with their eyes wide open, gripping their undrawn weapons. They were amazed and in shock. Queen Nithotep did not like snakes, especially Cobra’s. She gripped her throne in an unusually tight way.
Aya approached the hall’s entrance, balancing a large bowl of water. The bowl was heavy and she walked slowly, trying not to spill its contents. She focused on the water and not the occupants of the room. Nesu Narmer rose from his throne and began to speak. “The greatest Magician of the north, who makes a rod transform into a snake. I’m going to need some more convincing. The Naja Haje is well known to succumb to pressure at the base of its head. Pushing your thumbs into this area paralyzes the snake. After a while the snake goes to sleep and it becomes rigid like a walking shaft. You walked in with the rigid snake as your aid. You needed to release the pressure and the snake returns to life. But look at the poor thing. It’s still regaining its senses. We may need to get that under control. A little while from now and that angry snake will do some real damage.”
Aya walked gingerly into the hall; she stared at Bener-ib. Bener-ib had removed her hood revealing her pretty face. Aya’s eyes flicked to the stage where the Nesu and her Queen were sitting. She could see an old man, whom she assumed was a Magician. She could also see a coiled snake. She assumed this to be the other Magician, performing some kind of illusion. Walking around the Magician, she gave the snake a wide birth as she knelt in front of Bener-ib. Bener-ib followed the conversation and was disappointed in the Magician’s crude trick. She watched the snake regain consciousness. From the corner of her eye, she saw a bowl of water being placed at her feet. She took little notice of the servant bringing the water. Aya would have raised her suspicions; Bener-ib knew this servant harbored ill will against her.
Aya was positioned on the floor, resting her weight on her shins. She bent forward with her face surrounded by long black hair. With her identity concealed, she offered the bowl of water to Bener-ib. Bener-ib fell to her knees. She dipped her hands into the cool water. Once the water had surrounded her hands, she would be able to assume the Magical powers from her sister. Bener-ib was about to dip her hands, when the Nesu continued. “That was a crude trick suitable for children. I would expect more from the great Ka.”
That was the moment. Some moments fly by and some seem to drag onwards for an eternity. This moment was unscripted, in a day so meticulously planned. The best moments are ones usually not planned. This moment was a combination of luck, skill, perception, planning and years of training. When Aya entered the room her movement caught Ka’s eyes. She was a pretty thing and Ka was partial to the ladies. He knew that the Queen was off limits. He did not want to dual with Bener-ib, for his powers would not impress her. Aya was an aide and easily impressed. Her simple beauty aroused him. He let his trained eye linger upon her entrance longer than he would normally have. It was in that lustful second, that he registered something odd. Being a great Magician is not easy. You need great power but you need to cultivate that power. You need an advanced sense of awareness, a keen eye, and a superb sense of timing.
Aya was carrying a heavy bowl of water. The bowl rested upon her forearms for support. She kept the bowl level, causing the surface of the water to remain flat. She was determined not to spill any of the contents. The weight of the water was evenly distributed and should not have caused anything unusual. When Aya approached, her body seemed to labor more, on her right side. She wore a tight fitting white tunic that fell to her knees. Her hips swayed as she walked and she appeared to have strong toned legs. This was not unusual for palace aides. Aides walk a lot, work hard and are not allowed to eat excessively. Aya had no visible scars and her legs seemed strong. She definitely exhibited a strange gait. To the untrained eye, it was hardly noticeable. Ka knew something was not right.
Aya had concealed something of considerable weight; it was affecting her natural balance. Her tunic concealed something tied to her right thigh. Logic is a wonderful thing and Ka loved to use his deductive powers. If you conceal something, your motivation is to prevent it from being seen. Aya would be punished if this concealed item were found. With this illustrious group present; you would not dare conceal anything, unless you were prepared to die for it. The consequences would be well understood. Bringing something this heavy into the great hall would be pointless unless you intended to use it. The effectiveness of this object would be based upon the element of surprise. It had to be a valuable object for Aya to take such a risk. What purpose would this object have?
Ka tracked Aya closely with his eyes. He paid little attention to the barbed comments about his crude illusion. He was certain Aya had a concealed weapon. From the weight he deduced this to be a knife, probably made from heavy metal. Who was Aya’s intended target? As Aya withdrew her outstretched hands, she placed them close to her bended thighs. Bener-ib moved closer, ready to soak her hands. She was ready to assume her magical powers from her twin sister. Aya grabbed the concealed knife. Her motion was shielded by her thigh; not noticeable from the stage. No one suspected anything, except Ka. She slid the blade upwards away from its restraint and grabbed the heavy handle.
It happened quickly but her movements were deliberate. It’s the surprise factor that seems to make time speed up. Bener-ib was staring downwards at her hands, dipped in the bowl of water. The Nesu, Queen Nithotep and the guards were too far away to alter the outcome. Ka was vigilant; as soon as he saw the raised blade, he threw his hand in the direction of the knife. The blade began its descent towards Bener-ib’s back; a blinding blue light shot from Ka’s palm. It struck the blade; causing Aya to recoil in surprise, shouting in pain. The blue light burned Aya’s hands. The heavy knife suddenly felt slimy and wiggled its way free from her grip.
Everyone in the great hall had witnessed Ka’s intense power. Aya’s hand fell, striking Bener-ib’s back. A slimy Catfish bounced off her back and slid across the stone floor, gulping for air. Bener-ib submerged her hands deeper into the bowl. Her mystical powers surged through her body. The guards raced to restrain Aya, who had failed in her attempt to kill Bener-ib.
The Nesu stood and pointed to Aya. “Traitor, she must not live.” Queen Nithotep was shocked; she could not believe what she had just witnessed. If she had not seen this directly, she would not have believed it from Aya. She had always been a trusted aide.
Aya knew she had been thwarted. It took a few moments to comprehend that the knife was now a gasping Catfish. Magic and sorcery were at work here and she knew she must now meet her inevitable fate. She had failed to kill Bener-ib but she did not regret trying. Queen Nithotep would be proud of her actions. Nesu Narmer raged, “Ka, you can decide how she must die.” The Nesu was incensed; his neck veins pulsed. He was so angry that this trusted servant had tried to disrupt his meticulously planned day.
Ka glanced at the frightened woman and waved his hand in a circular motion. Her body fell apart, into a heap of dust. All that remained were Aya’s robes. Her jewelry rested in a pair of empty sandals. A few strands of twine, used to restrain the knife, lay twisted among her belongings. Ka walked towards the robes and carefully removed the objects. He left a cone of dust piled high upon the stone floor. He waved his hand and the dust swirled into a column; it fell to the floor with a hard clanging noise. Ka had turned the dust into a Chisel. Pleased with his work, he stepped backwards. “She will always serve you my Nesu; she will be hit with a mallet, the rest of her useful days.”
The guards were amazed, as they looked at the Chisel lying on the stone floor. Bener-ib had risen to her feet; she raised her arms casting her own spell. The Catfish flipped and began to rise into the air. The Chisel shot across the floor, as if dragged by an invisible rope. The Chisel came to rest next to the bowl of water. The Catfish floated serenely towards the water, as if it were swimming through the air. It submerged into the bowl, causing a small splash. Bener-ib pushed her hands forward. The bowl and Chisel advanced towards the stage, coming to rest at its edge. Everyone could see the irony of this gesture. A Catfish lay beside the Chisel – the symbols of Nesu Narmer.
“I think we’ve had enough excitement for tonight,” said Nesu Narmer, catching his breath. “I suggest we retire to our quarters and resume in the morning, when the sun rises.” He moved forward to look at the bowl and the Chisel. The Catfish was content, safe in the surrounds of the comforting water. “Tomorrow will be a big day. I’ll explain why you’re here and I’ll ask you to help me. Rest, for you will need to be alert in the morning. I’ll double the guards tonight. Some people do not want us to meet and I can’t afford any mishaps. I’ll ask you to be extra vigilant.” The Nesu and his Queen walked towards the exit. They carried the Golden box; the Magicians bid them a good night.
* * * * *
Chapter 13: The Legend of Osirus
Upper Egypt, 3150 B.C.
It was a beautiful morning as the bright sunlight burst through the entrance to the great hall, flooding the room with light. Bener-ib had arrived first and positioned herself in her chair facing the stage. Ka was not far behind, sitting in his designated seat. Both had bowed their heads in a gesture of respectful acknowledgement. No words were spoken to validate their arrival. The Nesu and Queen Nithotep arrived with their entourage. After settling, they cleared the room of guards and aides.
Nesu Narmer rose slowly and focused upon the two Magicians. “Today is an important day. Today is the day that I’ll teach you something new. I will however, need your help. I want to start by sharing one of the oldest stories ever told.” Nithotep looked at her husband, knowing this was an important moment. Nesu Narmer caught her questioning gaze and nodded reassuringly.
“I have a lot of information to share with you today, but you must listen carefully. These important events in our history have been passed down from Nesu to Nesu. Its privileged information and I recognize that I’m breaking with tradition. I need to share with you of the true story of The King of the Dead.”
He looked across at his attentive Queen still holding the Golden box; she nodded slightly to signal her encouragement. Nithotep placed the heavy box at her feet. She settled comfortably into her chair, knowing this was going to take a while. “I’ll begin, but I need you to pay attention and listen carefully. Help yourself to refreshments whenever you need to, but keep your concentration at all times. This story will change your life.” He stopped, took a deep breath, and looked at them both. If he continued, there would be no going back. He only had this one moment to retreat, or he must carry through with his intended direction. He swallowed hard and began his story for his willing listeners.
“In the beginning, our land was the realm of the ancient Gods. The mightiest of all was the Sun God Ra, King of the Gods. Ra took the Goddess Nut, Mother of the Sky, as his beautiful wife; just as I have been blessed with Nithotep.” He turned and smiled at her beautiful face. She responded with a small upturn of the corners of her mouth. Ka remained stone faced at this romantic gesture; Bener-ib lowered her eyes, not wanting to intrude on this private moment. “Often things are not what they seem. Unlike Nithotep, Nut was not in love with Ra. Her heart was not pure, for she loved another God named Geb, Father of the Land. She could not conceal her admiring looks and her touch grew cold and infrequent. When Ra discovered this relationship, he was enraged. He forbid Nut to have children on any day of the year and cursed her. Nut loved children; Ra knew this was the deepest hurt that he could inflict. Nut was devastated; she was a broken shell of a woman. In her loneliness, she sought advice from the God of Wisdom, Thoth. Thoth listened to Nut and knew that Ra’s curse must be upheld. He had an idea, but it required some ingenuity. There were 360 days in a year; Nut was not allowed to have a child on any of them.” Nesu Narmer pushed his weight from his chair and approached the table, laden with food. He poured a cool glass of water, to ease his dry throat. He recalled his parents telling him stories and how hooked he would become. He would hang on every word. He looked at the two Magicians and saw the same curious look in their eyes. He took a small drink and returned to his chair, setting the goblet down at his feet.
“Thoth wanted to help Nut, for she was clearly distraught. Thoth contacted his friend Silene, Goddess of the Moon. Silene’s light, at this time, was equally as vibrant and strong as the Sun; she rivaled Ra’s intensity. Thoth entered into a wager with Silene, but Thoth was full of Wisdom and Silene was destined to lose their wager. Thoth was the victor and was awarded one seventh of Silene’s intensity. The moon wanes each month, as a result of this wager. Thoth used his wisdom and used this light, to extend the year by 5 days. There would now be 365 days in a year. This was the clever solution. Nut would have 5 days that she was allowed to have children. She still would obey Ra’s curse of not having children for 360 days a year.
On the first extra day, Nut gave birth to Osiris. On the second extra day, Horus was born. On the third extra day, Seth was born. On the fourth extra day, Isis was born and the fifth extra day, Nephthys was born. On the first extra day, a loud voice rattled across the sky and was heard by all mortal inhabitants. The Lord of all of the Land is born. This powerful King Osiris became magnificent. He taught the people agriculture, building and civilization. He instilled upon them a code of laws, in which to live their lives. He taught them respect and how to worship the Gods. Under his rule, Egypt became a prosperous and powerful land. Osiris was a kind, supportive and gentle ruler. His people loved and adored him. Once he had civilized Egypt, he decided to take his teachings to lands outside of Egypt’s borders.
When he travelled, he would leave his wife Isis, to rule Egypt in the same manner. Isis was also adored and respected by the people of Egypt. Osiris attracted a bitter enemy, who resented his ways and popularity. Seth was born on the third extra day and became intensely jealous of Osiris.
Seth devised an elaborate plan, but he would need help with its execution. He aligned himself with Aso, the Queen of Ethiopia; between them, they recruited 72 other conspirators. No plot could ever succeed with Isis ruling the country. Her authority was never questioned and her motives were always pure. Anyone hearing of dissent would kill the uprising and restore order, through loyalty to Isis. She was so popular; nobody would turn against her.
One hot lazy afternoon Seth approached the royal tailor. Nuba was a skilled tailor, with a flare for creating divine styles. He would create clothing that was so unique; the Nesu would look like a God from another planet. He had developed a popular style and knew which fabrics the Nesu and his Queen favored.
Nuba raised his head to a presence felt over his left shoulder. Seth watched him decorate a cloth with the design of a falcon. Nuba stopped working to ask Seth, why was he being honored by this visit?
Seth explained to Nuba; his brother was returning to Egypt soon. Seth wanted to host him at a lavish reception thrown in his honor. He wanted to surprise him with a garment, the likes of which had never been seen before. Nuba agreed to design the garment. Seth asked Nuba to draw three unique designs, and present them after two moons. Seth would pick the most appropriate design; he wanted to surprise both Osiris and his wife Isis. Nuba was instructed to keep this a secret.
Nuba was excited about the task at hand and agreed. He worked hard, creating many intricate designs. Most were rejected, until he finally settled on his favorite three. Each design was carefully selected which he considered to be elaborate and unique. He had outdone himself. He was determined not to disappoint Seth when he came to visit. Seth reviewed the designs later that day; he considered each drawing carefully. He selected the strongest design and Nuba was visibly pleased. Seth brought wine as a thank you gesture. Nuba drank the wine and casually explained how he would make the garment. During the relaxed conversation, Seth managed to extract the personal measurements of Osiris. He left Nuba with the orders to start the garment immediately.
Seth approached a conspirator. He commissioned the building of an elaborately decorated box; it would emulate Osiris’s exact measurements. The box was completed quickly. It was discreetly shipped to Seth, under the guise of a secret gift. When Osiris returned, there was much to be thankful for. Great celebrations were erupting throughout the land. The people were excited and relieved to see Osiris return safely. Isis welcomed her husband back to Egypt; everyone seemed happy.”
Nesu Narmer paused, as he reached for his goblet of water. He swallowed a cool mouthful, to help hydrate his dry throat. He had been talking for a while, relaying the story. Queen Nithotep was also thirsty; she dare not move and break her husband’s concentration. The Magicians seemed to be on the same wavelength; they sat silently waiting for the story to continue. Queen Nithotep had heard many of the old legends, but this one was new. She hung on her husband’s every word.
Nesu Narmer continued, “Seth had organized a large festival welcoming his beloved brother home. He invited dignitaries, politicians and guests from far away. He also invited the 72 conspirators. Before the festival began, Seth presented Osiris with the garment Nuba had created. It was magnificent; both Osiris and Isis loved the design. Osiris wore the garment proudly to the festival. The garment was wafer thin and fitted the contours of his athletic body. The festival continued well into the early evening. It was now customary for the women to retire to another room.
The men continued with entertainment more suited to a male audience. Isis kissed her husband lightly on the cheek and smiled. She left him with the festival guests, as the females vacated the great hall. Osiris was devoid of evil he did not suspect a thing. The feast continued with eating, drinking and entertainment. The feast suddenly fell silent as six men carried a beautiful box into the room. It was placed carefully in the center of the room. The box was beautifully decorated with inlaid wood, depicting hunting scenes. The workmanship was so advanced the guests were silenced by its beauty and artistry. Seth announced that anybody who fits within the box would become its rightful owner.
One by one, each of the guests tried to fit within the box. Some were too tall, some were too wide, and nobody seemed to fit the elaborate box. Laughter ensued and the light party atmosphere added to the game. Osiris was encouraged to try the box. He approached the box and lay inside. The box’s dimensions fit Osiris perfectly. He lay on his back smiling, for he knew that he had won the elaborate box. Osiris, pleased with himself, he closed his eyes and laughed at his circumstance. The box fit his dimensions perfectly
He was unaware; as soon as he lay in the box the conspirators approached. They slammed the lid closed, sealing him inside. When he finally realized what was happening, it was too late. Armed with hammers and nails, they nailed the lid closed, trapping Osiris inside. They poured molten lead into the seam of the box to seal him inside. Under the cover of darkness, the box was smuggled out of the palace and transported to the river Nile. On the banks, they lifted Osiris from the crude cart and carried him down the muddy bank. Under the moonlight, they pushed the wooden box into the strong current of the river where he was swept away.
Suspecting foul play, Ahmed a junior aide, watched the men from the shadows of the palace. He had heard the laughter from the great hall and had positioned himself at the door. He had a clear vantage point to observe the festivities. Once the laughter died down, the mood changed instantly. He was drawn to investigate the sudden change. Ahmed hid in the shadows of a recess, frightened that his discovery would mean certain death. Once he felt safe, he followed the men and ran back to the palace. It was Ahmed who informed Isis of the treachery.
Isis was overcome with grief; she remained in the palace temporarily until her safety could be assured. Isis was pregnant with Horus, a son for Osiris. She vowed to find Osiris’s body. She would bury him in a tomb with the entire ceremonial splendor, reserved for a God. This would ensure his safe passage to Duat, the Land of the Dead. She needed to find a safe place to hide from Seth. He would surely try to kill her, and the new heir to the throne. Isis hid on a floating island, located in the Nile Delta. She was protected and hidden by the Goddess Buto. She finally gave birth to Horus, leaving him in the protective care of Buto.
Isis left her newborn son, to find her husband’s body. She searched for him relentlessly; she would not rest, until he had received a proper funeral.
Isis would never abandon her search but after searching for years, she had found nothing. Nobody had seen the beautifully decorated box; nobody knew where Osiris could be. One day Isis was searching through some reeds at the rivers edge; she saw some children playing by the Nile. They looked happy and giggled with excitement as they ran from each other. She approached calmly and asked the children if they had seen a giant elaborately decorated box. They told Isis of the time they lived on the banks of the Nile, in small clay brick buildings. They pointed to the ruins of the small dwellings. They told Isis that one night, long ago, a group of men approached the riverbank. Their Father had woken them. He quickly extinguished every light source, trying to keep the dwelling dark.
Hoping they would not be noticed, they were warned to keep quiet. They watched the men carrying a large box. After some shouting, the men threw the box into the Nile, where it was swept away. Isis asked the children, if they remember where the men threw the box into the Nile. The children nodded yes.
Nesu Narmer stopped and looked at his wife Queen Nithotep. Her eyes never broke with his gaze, as she hung on every nuance of the story. He swept his gaze towards the Magicians. They sat motionless, still engaged with the story and its significance to them. Ka stood, taking advantage of a break in the story. He walked to the table and offered his palm to the pile of fruit. A large bunch of grapes flew into his hand and he returned to his chair. He popped a grape into his mouth and looked intensely at Nesu Narmer.
The Nesu waited for calm to descend in the room before he continued with his story. “The children led Isis to a place on the riverbank, near their house. They pointed to the strong current where the box was thrown in. Isis began her journey to locate the box and her husband’s body. She followed the rapids and asked anyone along the way. Finally, she was led out to sea. She managed to cross the great Green Sea, which led her to the land of Byblos.
In Byblos, she heard of a story where a tamarisk bush had grown to a mighty size. It had a fragrance that eclipsed the sweetest smelling flower. That night, Isis had a vision. She saw the box washing up onshore; lodging itself within the roots of a tamarisk bush. By some strange power, the bush grew at a rapid pace and became a magnificent tree. Isis could see deep within the tree. The tree’s roots had enclosed the box, drawing it deep within the tree. The sweet fragrance was the fragrance of the God Osiris, hidden inside.
The towering tree had enclosed the box, deep within its trunk. The tree’s fragrance attracted a lot of attention. It became famous, with word eventually reaching the King of Byblos. The King arranged a royal visit. He expected to be disappointed by the common people’s exaggerations. He was pleasantly surprised and amazed by the size of the tree. It was the most fragrant tree in the land. King Malcander admired the tree so much; he left thinking about how he could use this wonderful gift. The King talked with his engineers and decided to incorporate the tree into his palace. This would make an ideal gift for his beloved wife, Queen Astarte. The next day, he ordered his army to cut down the great tree and bring it to the royal palace. It was erected in the center of the palace, as a great pillar, supporting the main roof. The pillar spread its fragrance and the palace smelled like a summer’s meadow.
Isis had traced the box to Byblos, but she was having difficulty finding the exact location of the tree. Isis finally heard the story of the fragrant tree. She learned that the King of Byblos had cut the tree down. She was told of the pillar in the center of the royal palace. Isis decided she needed a plan to retrieve her husband and turned herself into an old withered woman.
Isis rested at a fountain near the palace. She waited for the handmaidens of the Queen to visit. They gathered at the same time each day, before resuming their duties. They would go to the shore to wash clothes and bathe in the sea. Isis would talk with them as they stopped at the fountain to rest. Isis appeared to the maidens as a lonely old woman. She was always at the fountain and seemed harmless. Once she had gained their trust, she moved forward with her plan.
Isis taught the maidens how to braid their hair in intricate designs. The hairstyles had never been seen before and attracted an immense amount of attention. The men started to notice how beautiful the maidens looked. Their comments and stares did not escape the attentive Queen. One day Isis selected the prettiest maiden; she decorated her braided hair. She used an arrangement of flowers and trinkets; made from delicate seashells, collected from the seashore. When she returned to the palace; Queen Astarte noticed the beautiful new ornaments, combined with the new modern hairstyle. The Queen could see how pleasing this style was to the palace men’s eager eyes. She wanted to please her husband; she inquired who had taught the maidens this new beauty? The maidens described the old woman at the fountain. They were asked to bring her to the palace. When Queen Astarte met the old woman they talked at length. She made the Queen feel relaxed and impressed her with her knowledge, calmness and serenity.
The Queen felt comfortable with the old woman and invited her to stay at the palace. She braided the Queen’s hair in a unique style and decorated her with a crown of seashells. King Malcander loved the new look and fawned over the Queen the entire night.
After a while, the Queen asked Isis if she would look after her sickly son, Diktys. Isis was appointed to the position of nurse, to the young Prince. She would feed him by giving him her finger to suck. Each night when the palace settled, she would pile logs onto the fire. Isis would then take the child and throw him into the fire.”
Nithotep gasped, as she raced to cover her mouth and suffocate the sound. Bener-ib winced, but remained silent. Ka remained stoic, munching on a grape. Nesu Narmer looked at his wife sympathetically. “I will continue, but you need to understand. After Isis threw the young Prince into the fire, she would change into a blue swallow, where she would chirp and fly around the room in a mournful display for her deceased Osiris. Queen Astarte was happy with Isis, as Diktys had grown stronger in her care. She was also concerned. A maiden had informed her that Isis would lock the staff out of the Prince’s room at night. She had reported strange sounds that could be heard from the hallway.
What was happening behind closed doors? Queen Astarte heard the rumors and decided to seek the truth herself. That evening she hid within the nursery of the young Prince. Isis built a strong fire and pushed the child into the heart of the flames. Isis turned into a swallow and flew around the room. Queen Astarte squealed in sheer terror as she watched her son engulfed by flames. She burst forward trying to reach the child. She managed to reach into the roaring flames and retrieve her child, only to find her baby unharmed.
Isis transformed from a small swallow into her magnificent self. She stood before the Queen in all of her majestic beauty. Isis turned upon the Queen scolding her with a force that shattered her confidence. Queen Astarte was humbled and afraid. Isis explained that she was tempering the child. Each night the magic flames would strengthen him and turn him into a God. Her unfortunate interruption had now voided the process; his path to immortality had been broken. He would now remain a mortal and die as all mortals inevitably do. The Queen begged for forgiveness and promised Isis unlimited riches, if she would continue to temper Diktys. Isis explained that her magic had been broken; she could not continue with Diktys. Diktys would die a short sickly death, unless he was blessed.
Queen Astarte begged Isis to bless her son, so that he might have a healthy life, as a mortal. Isis offered to bless Diktys, if she received her wish from the Queen. The Queen offered to grant Isis her wish, unsure of what Isis might ask. Isis asked for the fragrant pillar of Byblos. Queen Astarte agreed, knowing that her husband would value his son’s life above the pillar. In exchange for the pillar, Isis would ensure the child’s future health and happiness.
The King made immediate arrangements to remove the pillar from the great hall. Isis asked the workmen to split the pillar in two, carefully along the middle. Deep within the center of the pillar, was an elaborately decorated box; it contained the body of Osiris. Isis removed the box. She poured scented oils and heavenly perfumes on the pillar. She instructed the workmen to reassemble the pillar and place it in a temple, next to the palace. Isis informed the priest that the pillar had once contained the body of a God; it would possess strong healing properties. Many pilgrims flock to Byblos and the Temple of Baalat to this day. They wait patiently to worship. Once inside, they touch the wooden relic; it’s referred to as The Lady of Byblos.
Isis brought her husband’s body home. Her intention was to give him a proper funeral, worthy of a God. She wanted to bury him and prepare him for the journey to Duat. When Isis returned home, she opened the box and wept uncontrollably over her dead husband. Isis was consoled by her Sister Nephthys. The Sisters turned into the beautiful birds. Two Kites circled the box, darting and weaving patterns in the air with their feathered wings. After an appropriate amount of mourning, Isis began to miss her son Horus. She needed to tell him of her journey; she needed to reclaim him. She was always confident that the Goddess Buto would protect him, but she was his natural Mother.
Isis found a safe hiding place for the box and continued her journey to retrieve her son. She bid farewell to her supportive sister and headed for the Nile Delta. It was a fateful night; Seth was hunting by the moon’s strong light. Seth and his hunting party stumbled upon a strange object. It was partially concealed by rocks and brush. Upon closer inspection, Seth recognized the elaborately decorated box. Seth was astounded to find the box again. He could not understand why it was hidden within his land. His rage grew as he opened the lid. The sight before him was his dead Brother. Seth sliced Osiris into fourteen pieces and scattered them throughout Egypt.
Isis was distraught; her anger towards Seth was renewed. Isis was left with no choice. She had to resume her search and find all fourteen pieces of her husband’s body. When Isis found a piece of his body, she would ask workers to construct a temple dedicated to Osiris. Horus grew to be a fine, strong, honest man. Outraged by his Father’s death, he vowed to avenge him. Osiris was resurrected as The King of the Dead; he who judges all souls. He resides in Duat but one day, he decided to visit Horus, in the mortal world. He convinced Horus to avenge the foul deeds that Seth committed. Horus finally found Seth and a great battle between good and evil ensued. Victory is not easy, with one side about to win, when the other gains the upper hand. The battle still rages today but we have to believe that one day Horus will be victorious. That will be the day that Osiris will return to rule Egypt and all lands across this world.”
Nesu Narmer broke into a deep, warm smile. He gazed across at Queen Nithotep; she nodded slightly, to encourage her husband. He had told the story in an engaging way. His audience was captive, waiting to hear the conclusion of his story. Ka held out a grape cluster picked clean of its fruit. He let it fall to the stone floor but before it collided with the ground it burst into flames. It sent small plumes of smoke into the air that quickly dissipated in the dry heat. “When Isis ordered the pillar of Byblos to be split, the workmen chopped at the wood. Most of the attention was drawn to the beautiful box hidden within. As the men toiled, a piece of wood splintered across the floor and came to rest at the feet of Isis. She took this as a sign and bent to retrieve the shard of splintered wood. She tucked it into her hair and kept it.
The sweet smelling wood traveled home with Isis. She presented the wood to Horus, so that he may carry with him an artifact from his Father; for good luck. When Osiris visited his son in the mortal world, Horus gave Osiris the piece of wood. He wanted to show his respect for his Father. The journey of this amazing artifact does not stop there. Osiris was now Lord of the Underworld and Judge of the Souls. He would weigh hearts and decide who would be worthy to enter Duat. His loyal assistant in this important passage is Anubis. As a reward for his service, Osiris carved the sweet smelling magical wood into a highly polished and hardened Amulet. He wove a chain of gold and presented Anubis with the magical Amulet. It provided health and wellbeing to anyone who touched it. The sweet smelling Amulet depicted a black jackal’s head, which hung proudly around the neck of Anubis.”
Ka listened but was tiring of the stories. He was starting to wonder why he had been called and how he was supposed to help the Nesu. Like Ka, Bener-ib was always aware. Her trained eye never missed anything. She had inspected the Nesu from head to toe and noticed one constant. He always wore a black polished Anubis pendant, around his neck. Queen Nithotep tried to restrain her facial expressions; she instantly recognized the pendant in the story. She had seen it many times before. She thought the sweet smell of meadows was her husband’s divine smell. He always smelled like a God should.
“I have strained your ears and stretched your concentration enough for this morning. I suggest we reconvene later. Relax and enjoy the palace. I will send a guard when it’s time to reconvene. I promise, that the purpose of your visit will now become clear.” With a wave of his hand, Nesu Narmer signaled Queen Nithotep to rise. She was to accompany him as they walked from the great hall. Queen Nithotep carried the Golden box. Ka crinkled his forehead. He failed to understand why Nesu Narmer was stopping. He was confused and irritated. He had wasted the morning listening to tired old tales. He looked across at Bener-ib for some answers. Bener-ib sat quietly, with her head bowed slightly.
“Are we going to be told why we’re here?” Ka’s irritation was clearly evident.
“When he’s ready, he will tell us.” Bener-ib remained still.
“When do you think he’ll be ready?”
“When we are,” was her clever response.
“I’m an impatient man. It may have been passed down from Nesu to Nesu but I’ve heard that story before. It’s a legend that all children are told.” Ka waved his hands in frustration.
“You would do well to keep your voice low. I’ve heard that story a thousand times, but never told that way. If you had listened carefully, there were some subtle, yet important, nuances. Nobody but the Nesu would have known about the shard of wood and the Anubis Amulet. Have you been indulging in your own frustration, or have you kept your eyes open?” Bener-ib shook her head, to signal her displeasure.
Ka shot her a look and turned the corners of his mouth into a sly smile. “You don’t think much of me, do you? Slight of hand and small-minded tricks, that’s what you think of me.” Before Bener-ib could respond, Ka continued. “Yes, I noticed the polished head of Anubis. It was suspended from a gold chain, around the Nesu’s neck. Yes, I know gold is the Skin of the Gods. It peeked out from his garment twice, but I noticed. I thought the same as you. Is this Nesu Narmer, or is this Anubis in another form? This is not Anubis, so the Nesu received the Amulet from somebody. To complete your imaginary perception of me, I must confess to liking your perfume. I smelled it when I entered the room. My nostrils were confused as I tried to separate yours, from our Queen’s. Then it hit me. Another fragrance sweeter and stronger than both fragrances was emanating from the pendant. It did smell like a summer’s meadow, filled with wild flowers from far away. You should never underestimate me, these cold eyes are always surveying. I’m old and wise, beyond your comprehension. People who underestimate me do so at their peril. You learned another lesson today. Sometimes a person’s greatest strength is that they are constantly underestimated.” Ka straightened his body and turned to walk to the door. Bener-ib was left to reflect on the lesson she had just learned.
The palace seemed quiet. Bener-ib informed her guard that she intended to sleep. She wanted him to be extra vigilant. As she instructed him, she noticed he was not paying attention to her words. He seemed nervous and stared at her beautiful eyes.
“You will ensure my safety? I can trust you guard?”
A strong nod of the head sealed the agreement; Bener-ib returned to her room. She had underestimated Ka and she felt bad. He had taught her a lesson today; she needed to be more respectful, the next time they met. She shook off the disappointment and tried to spend the rest of the morning rejuvenating, through sleep. The guard would wake her when it was mid-day.
* * * * *
Chapter 14: Mid-Day in the Great Hall
Upper Egypt, 3150 B.C.
Bener-ib received a stern look from Queen Nithotep; she hurried to take her chair in the great hall. She felt the intensity of the Queen’s stare pressing deeply into her guilty conscience. She had slept deeply, awakened only by her guard. Instead of rising and organizing herself for the day ahead, she had fallen back into a deep sleep. A servant assisted Bener-ib; she hastily prepared for the meeting in the great hall. Unfortunately, she was not fast enough. Nesu Narmer and Queen Nithotep had taken their seats ahead of her. Ka was entertaining a wry smile as she belatedly took her place. Bener-ib’s face flushed with embarrassment.
“Now that we’re all here, I can begin.” Nesu Narmer flashed a look of irritation towards Bener-ib; she decided not to meet his chastising gaze. She looked at her sandals, glowing with shades of brown in the strong sunlight. She could sense Ka laughing at her. She could hear his raucous laugh echoing through her mind. She would not look at Queen Nithotep, for she knew she had displeased her.
Nesu Narmer told the story of Ete, a high priest and embalmer to the royal palace. He described Ete’s condition and detailed his failing health. The Nesu became serious as he recalled Ete’s passing. He spent most of his life, working deep within a royal tomb. Nesu Narmer was highly animated, strutting around the great hall. He described a pivotal meeting with the God, Anubis. His hand went instinctively to his neck, as he described the Amulet given to Ete. He paused in front of Ka, “Ete escaped with his life, but the wolf God Wepwawet had other ideas. He wasn’t going to allow an errant soul leave the entrance to Duat. A heart needs to be weighed and judgment needed to be rendered.” The story continued with Ete fleeing for his life, followed by a detailed description of his wounds. A rise in tempo indicated the Nesu’s excitement. The Nesu was a gifted storyteller. He described the Amulet’s healing powers and the transformation of Ete’s badly wounded leg. Nesu Narmer was in a charismatic mood; he described the claw embedded in Ete’s damaged sandal.
“It’s not the intention of any God to leave an artifact in the mortal world. Sometimes this cannot be helped. A God touched the Pillar of Byblos and to this day it’s revered. When Ete eventually died, he had fulfilled his promise. He’d successfully prepared his Nesu for the important journey to Duat. He’d returned the Amulet, along with the Golden box, to his new Nesu. He’d also returned the broken claw from the great wolf. Ete had made sure that he’d returned all of these powerful artifacts. They weren’t from this world and he needed to make sure they were safe.” Both Bener-ib and Ka were listening, but their eyes seemed focused upon the small Golden box resting gently at Nithotep’s feet. “Artifacts from the Gods have special powers; they need to be respected. These items have been passed down from Nesu to Nesu, to ensure their safety. The artifacts themselves are not the source of power for a Nesu. Many suspect that we are Magicians, presenting a mysterious charade. Are we truly Gods walking with you in this mortal land? Or, are we simply men that have access to unusual powers, because of these artifacts?”
The two Magicians looked deeply into the Nesu’s eyes; both instinctively knew the answer. Outside of the great hall, a guard approached, stopping at the entrance. His heart thumped wildly within his chest, for he was angry and distraught. He was a dangerous bundle of emotions, as he struggled to maintain an air of calmness. He was angry beyond words. He walked towards a weary looking guard and stood next to him, upright and proud. An exhausted guard left his post, thankful to be relieved. Ay stood upright, his hand resting on the shaft of his spear. He could hear voices coming from the great hall, but he struggled to hear the words with any clarity. He strained his ears and even managed to shuffle his stance backwards a few inches, to be closer to the sound.
Nesu Narmer glanced across at his beautiful Queen. “Pass me the box, my Queen.” Nithotep rose elegantly from her chair. She scooped the heavy Golden box placed at her feet. She crossed the edge of the wooden stage and placed the box in front of the Magicians. It lay directly between them. Their attention followed the Queen before resting upon the box. Nesu Narmer waited for his Queen to return to her chair. He rose awkwardly, walking towards the Golden box. He reached behind his head with both hands, unclipping his golden chain. He allowed the Anubis shaped Amulet to fall into his hand. He placed it on the floor, next to the Golden box. Bener-ib was unsure what the Nesu’s next command would be. She recognized the Golden box. Nesu Narmer had once asked Bener-ib to extend him a favor. Could she restore the broken wing of his favorite hunting Falcon? He had confided his fear of an uprising and described constant challenges to his leadership. The twin sisters En and Bener-ib were asked to guard the Golden box. They decided to keep it safe within their palace upon the hill. The Nesu had described it as, “Most important.” Bener-ib knew of the dangers facing Nesu Narmer. The sisters decided to keep the Golden box safe until they were asked to return it. As the dry weather came, the heat inflamed people’s imaginations. Splinter groups plotted to overthrow the popular Nesu and gain power for themselves. Many believed the Nesu was a fraud, a simple mortal.
Ay was a palace guard. He thought of himself as an insider. He belonged to a group that despised the Nesu; they thought all men were equal. His lover Aya fed him information, from her duties attending to the Queen. Aya and Ay were alike not only in name. They shared a clandestine life, where they met with others in a secret society. The society had not plotted to harm the Nesu but they were seeking the truth. Was the Nesu really a God? When Aya had been taken from him, he did not know who would be his target for revenge? Should he kill the Nesu and prove him to be mortal? Should he try to kill the powerful magician Ka? Could he trust the fanciful stories describing Aya’s death that circulated the palace? He strained to hear the conversation in the next room. He was desperate to gain more evidence. This would help him formulate his plan and exact his revenge.
When Bes had arrived at the palace upon the hill, En knew that Nesu Narmer needed the Golden box. Bener-ib would be at the royal palace making sure nothing happened to the Nesu. He had asked for her live-in protection after his Falcon was healed. The Golden box had been sent. She trusted the royal guards and specifically Bes, to deliver it safely. Bener-ib had seen this Golden box before. She knew it was important but she did not know why? Had the Gods left this Golden box behind? Was this the Golden box that Anubis had given the High Priest? She was relieved the Golden box had arrived safely at the royal palace without incident. Ka looked at the Golden box with fascination. He could sense an energy emanating from the small object. This was the Golden box from Anubis. This was another artifact left by the Gods in our mortal world.
Nesu Narmer picked up his chair and removed it from the small wooden stage. He placed it directly in front of the two Magicians. Sitting in his new position, he raised his eyes and spoke. “When times are uncertain and this land needs divine guidance, people turn to me, their Nesu. I represent the Gods, while acting through this mortal form. When I die, I will join my Father and my Great Grandfather in glorious Duat, along with the other Gods. The Gods visit me at night in my dreams. They speak to me through dreams, but often dreams can be misinterpreted. If I ever needed to contact the Gods directly, I could. I have the power to come face to face with the Gods but I have never used this power. If I were truthful, I would admit to being reticent about using this power. I would be unsure of how the Gods would perceive this approach. I’m not sure if they even recognize that I have this ability.” He looked down at his feet in a humble and shy way. “I will now describe ancient secrets to you that will change your life forever.”
Ay could just hear the conversation and decided to do something, which if discovered, would cost him his life. He knew the Nesu was starting an important speech. He knew that the audience would be glued to his every word. He knew that the guard had just changed shift and that he would not be disturbed for a long time. This was the ideal moment to move forward, closer to the great hall. It would bring him within a comfortable range to hear the contents of the conversation. Ay would eavesdrop on the Nesu’s private audience and learn the secrets being shared. He knew the risks but he felt the chance was worth taking. He was still smarting from Aya’s death and wanted revenge.
The great hall grew quiet; Nesu Narmer had reached a point of no return. He was going to break with tradition. He was going to change the course of history by breaking a secret Nesu code. He listened to the silence carefully, searching for a sign. Would the Gods disapprove? He could feel the anticipation and hear Ka’s steady breathing. He glanced at Queen Nithotep for one last reassuring look before turning to face the Magicians.
“This Amulet is the gift given to the High Priest Ete by Anubis himself. The polished wood used to produce this sweet smelling Amulet was taken from the Pillar of Byblos. Anubis placed this Amulet in a Golden box made from his skin. This allowed Ete to return through a gate from the afterlife and back to the mortal world. I’ve told you the story of Ete and his narrow escape from the wolf God Wepwawet. He used this Amulet to heal his damaged leg allowing him to prepare the Nesu for his journey through Duat. This Amulet will bring extended health to all that touch it. Both artifacts are from the Gods and both need to be kept safe.” The Nesu leaned forward closer to the Magicians. He positioned his forearms upon the tops of his thighs and leaned in closer as he delivered his message.
“I’m a man of great power, yet I have many enemies. My enemies want what we have. They despise the unification of Egypt and want our land, our water and our riches. The Boat people conduct raids, yet their greed continues to consume them. My sources tell of a large gathering and future plans to invade Egypt. Forces from the south constantly attack our borders and our enemies grow bolder. I don’t fear for Egypt but I do fear for my safety. I don’t fear death but I fear the opportunities for people with alternative ideas increase daily. What if I were not around to protect these priceless artifacts? They could be abused and their owners would not respect this power. These artifacts could change the balance of power across our land.” Ay smiled straining to hear more. He knew it. The Nesu was not a God; he simply possessed artifacts from the Gods, which made him powerful. If he used those artifacts then people would think he were a God.
Nesu Narmer continued. “Death is something you should not fear. If you live your life in a way consistent with Ma’at, then you’ll be accepted into Duat. I’m a God in this mortal world. For me to become a God in the underworld, I need to advance through twelve gates. My Forefathers have all progressed through these gates and have joined the Gods in Duat. The Book of Gates describes this process of advancement. It is a secret held by the high priests. Few know the entire progression. Some of the ancient Nesu’s insisted that this journey be depicted by paintings upon their tomb walls. There are twelve gates that a Nesu will have to pass through, to join his ancestors and the Gods. Each gate is guarded with deities. I must know the names of each before they will allow me to proceed.”
Nesu Narmer described each of the gates or sections of his journey. He equated the gates to the twelve nocturnal hours that occur each night. He outlined the gates as providing a test that represented challenge in the underworld. He spoke of time, material possessions and justice. He described serpents and Goddesses that would assist or block his journey.
* * * * *
In October 1820, Giovanni Battista Belzoni led a team to excavate the Valley of the Tombs of the Kings. He began on the western bank of the Nile, at Thebes. Deep within a watercourse bed, he noticed a patch of ground that looked different. It looked as if the ground had been disturbed and moved. He ordered his work crew to excavate the sand and fragments of debris that had accumulated in this area. On October 19th workmen entered a buried passageway. They progressed along a narrow corridor to a magnificent tomb. A second corridor led him to a chamber buried deep within the ground and designed to catch any water seeping down into the tomb. Belzoni passed through corridors, going to a depth of 180 feet below the surface. He reached a vaulted chamber with a stunning sarcophagus. He managed to extract the sarcophagus unharmed and shipped it to England. He attempted to sell it to the British Museum but the negotiations stalled. He subsequently sold it to Sir John Soane, for 2,000 pounds. The sarcophagus was hollowed out from solid blocks of alabaster. It was large, measuring 9 ft. 4 in. long by 3 ft. 8 in. wide. The skill of the mason, who managed to hollow out the blocks without breaking the alabaster, was immense.
When completed, the mason handed over the sarcophagus to artisans who carved the inside and outside with hieroglyphics, figures and Gods. It was decorated both inside and outside. A brilliant copper based paint was prepared, contrasting with the bright white alabaster. The paint was a bluish green color. Today, a large number of the figures and vignettes have been stripped of their color. The first man to try to unravel the scenes and associated text was Samuel Sharpe. The sarcophagus contained speeches and described the twelve gates. It completed a considerable amount of missing information, from the Book of the Dead. Subsequent discoveries on tomb walls have pieced together the full journey a Nesu must take to progress through the underworld. Ancient Egyptians firmly believed in their heaven being located underground.
* * * * *
“Today is an important day in our history. Ka, please step forward and approach me.” Nesu Narmer fixed his eyes squarely upon Ka, as he sounded his name. Ka was momentarily stunned and pushed his small frame quickly from the support of his chair. He approached the Nesu with his arms clearly visible and his palms facing forward. The Nesu raised his hand slightly, signaling for him to stop. Ka stood motionless, unsure of the events to follow. “Kneel and listen carefully. When your time has come to an end in this world, we all dream of joining our ancestors in the afterlife, in Duat. At first you will enter an antechamber of Duat. You’ll see the great mountain of the west. It will appear as if split in two, inviting you to travel between the two divided parts. You’ll see a boat. This is the boat of the sun. The boat will take you to the first gate; that starts your journey into Duat. Be careful, as this is a powerful gate guarded by the two-headed serpent called Saa-Set.”
Nesu Narmer walked towards Queen Nithotep and picked up the Golden box, opening its lid. He removed two rings and gently placed them upon his chair. Turning to face Ka, he stooped to grab Ka’s arm, turning the palm of his hand upwards. Nesu Narmer placed the Golden box, with its lid still open, upon Ka’s outstretched hand. He raised his other hand to firmly press the Amulet into Ka’s palm, closing his fingers around its shape. Nesu Narmer walked behind the kneeling Ka; he stopped at his back. He took a deep breath that seemed to whistle in Ka’s ear. “I’m going to show you a power that will reshape your life forever. I want you to enter the antechamber of Duat, where you will see the gate of Saa-Set. I don’t want you to ride the boat of the sun, for I fear you’ll never return. You must return to this world for I have an important duty for you to perform.” Nesu Narmer reached down and grabbed Ka’s head. Twisting it to the right he forced Ka to look at Queen Nithotep. “I will allow you to see what no living being has seen before, but you can’t stay long. Great dangers exist in the underworld, and your soul can fall prey easily. Wepwawet will be keenly interested in your arrival and the serpent Saa-Set, will surely seek you out. I want you to look quickly and return, as soon as you can. You will enter through a bright light and you must move to this light, to return. It’s important that you think about this place, and this meeting, as you enter the light. The gate will return you to any time or place that you desire. You must not be tempted. You must return here. I have more to tell you. Look at your Queen now. See how pretty she is, sitting in that chair. I need you to fix that image in your head. This is the image of this meeting and of this time, that you will think of to return; do you understand?”
Nesu Narmer asked Ka to place the Amulet in the Golden box and clasp the lid closed. As the lid closed, he simply disappeared. Queen Nithotep took a sharp intake of breath. Bener-ib blinked, hardly believing the void in front of her eyes. Could this be a clever illusion, staged by the Nesu as entertainment?
Ka had entered a place that he immediately recognized as strange. It was bright but he could not see a sun. The sky was blue with no clouds. He was standing on a dock and had entered near a white marble column. It emanated a strong light and contained carved inscriptions. The column read, “Ra saith unto the mountain: Send forth light, O Mountain!”
Ka stood on a short dock, with the blinding light at his back. He looked across the water and could see movement. Far in the distance, he could see an entrance but it was not what he had anticipated. It looked like a large leaf, hinged at one edge forming a gate. Ka could see a coiled giant snake, blocking the entrance to the gate. It was a large creature. It had scales that glistened as if wet. The serpent’s heads rested upon a dark green thick coil. Immediately to Ka’s right he could see a boat. He had never seen a boat like this before. The boat of the sun was large and made of polished wood. He walked to the rear of the boat to gain a better vantage point. Ka had strayed from the luminous column. On the right was a flag flapping furiously but there was no wind. The flag bore the design of a jackal’s head. Kneeling either side of the flag were two bearded Gods, Tat and Set. The left side of the boat had a ram-headed flag, also flying proudly in the non-existent wind. Kneeling below this flag were two more bearded Gods of the same name. At the bow of the boat Ka could see Sa, the God of divine intelligence. At the stern, he recognized Heka, a God standing near two paddles. Twenty-four Gods waited to pull the boat across the watery channel. The twelve Gods on the right are known as the Gods of the Mountain. The twelve on the left of the boat are known as the Gods of Set-Amentet. A strange feeling crept over Ka and he suddenly felt unsafe. An overwhelming urge to return, swept through his body. He did not belong here. He was intruding in a holy place. He turned to face the brightly lit column when he noticed movement to his left. A large grey mass of fur caught his eye. Snorting and snarling could be heard. It was Wepwawet! Ka ran towards the warm welcoming light, trying to block the sounds of terror from his mind. He thought about his beautiful Queen sitting dutifully at the side of her Nesu. She would be listening to the address aimed at the two Magicians. Within an instant Ka was enveloped by the white light and transported back to his kneeling position. He had been gone long enough to examine the antechamber of Duat. He knew this place was real and not some fanciful tale, manufactured by the High Priests. The experience had left him shaken and frightened. He dropped the Golden box at his feet and backed away from its powerful energy. Ka had experienced a world where he was not supposed to enter, until his life force was spent. Ka slumped backwards into his chair, shivering with fear.
Nesu Narmer placed a comforting hand upon his shoulder. “You’re safe now. Have no fear. I’ll protect you in this world, you’re safe now.” Ka looked at his Nesu with fear coursing through his veins. Nesu Narmer crouched upon the ground and carefully opened the lid of the Golden box. He nudged it with his hand and the Amulet escaped, falling onto the floor. Picking up both objects, he brought them to Bener-ib. She looked at the box and the Amulet. She took one last glance at the petrified look on Ka’s face. Ka watched with interest, still shivering from the experience. Bener-ib felt frightened but she did not want to show it. She stretched her hands outwards, both palms raised. Nesu Narmer placed the Golden box on one hand and the Amulet on the other. Bener-ib repeated the process and closed the lid. As she disappeared Ka recoiled into a ball within his chair, raising his feet from the ground.
Within seconds Bener-ib reappeared, similarly frightened. Nesu Narmer removed the Amulet and placed both items upon the floor. “I need you both to remain calm and start to relax. You’re quite safe and I’ll not make you do that again. Duat is a glorious place but only the pure of heart can traverse its many dangers. Souls will be annihilated, if they’re found to be impure. I want you to imagine the power someone will have, if they possess these two items.”
Ay had moved closer than he had dared but he had heard enough. He knew a way into Duat was possible. He could transport himself back to any time and place, simply by thinking it. This was powerful magic from the Gods. He could transport back to a time before his love was savagely murdered. He strained to hear the conversation continue but he had already made his mind up. He was going to get these artifacts and the power that came with them.
Nesu Narmer continued. “I’ve never traveled through this entrance into Duat. I don’t want to offend the Gods by entering prematurely. My time will come and I will be fully prepared, to advance through the twelve gates. I’ve mentioned that I grow increasingly concerned about uprisings, boat people and looters. Should these objects fall into the wrong hands,” he shook his head. “I’ll be blamed by the Gods. That’s why they need to be protected. They need to be separated at all times. This is why you have been asked to the royal palace. I need you both to make me a promise that you need to keep, for the rest of your lives. That’s not good enough I’m afraid. I need you to help me keep these promises intact, forever. You’ll have to pass down the importance of what you are about to do, from generation to generation.”
Ka rubbed his forehead, clearly feeling the weight of the situation. Queen Nithotep sat stoically. “Egypt will likely fall, if I don’t protect these Godly artifacts. I need you both to cooperate and form an unbreakable alliance. Suspicion, money, love or time must not break the bonds you are about to make. I will give each of you, one of the artifacts. You must keep them both apart but you must know where the other is located. I requested that this Golden box be kept away from the royal palace for this very reason. Now it’s time that the Golden box and the Amulet are kept hidden and safe. Destroying them will bring great harm to our land. They must be kept safe.”
Nesu Narmer approached Bener-ib. “Powerful Magician, I give you this Golden box to keep safe for all time. When you die, you must pass this onto someone you trust. You must explain the power and the dangers, that come with this box.” He let the Golden box fall into her lap and she reluctantly stared at the small heavy object with a new respect. “Ka, mighty Magician, I need you to keep this Amulet safe for all time.” Nesu Narmer dropped the sweet smelling jackal’s head into Ka’s lap. “You will both form an alliance. You will become the Servants of Byblos. I need you both to make this promise to me. You will promise to keep these artifacts safe and to pass on this responsibility to your future generations. Should you break this promise, a curse will fall upon your families and our beautiful land.”
Nesu Narmer approached Bener-ib, “Promise me mighty Magician.”
Bener-ib moved her eyes from the Golden box to meet Nesu Narmer’s intense stare. She glanced at Queen Nithotep, sitting in a motionless pose. “I promise.”
“Good, then you will become the Soul Collector, keeper of the Golden box of Anubis and Servant of Byblos.” Nesu Narmer approached Ka. “What about you Ka?”
Ka did not raise his eyes to meet the Nesu’s stare. He kept his head bowed and rubbed the sweet smelling Amulet with his thumb. “I promise.”
“Good, then you shall become the Keeper of the Pendant and Servant of Byblos. Two promises both to be kept through all of eternity. It will be important to know where the other Magician is located. I have made two rings that I want to present to you.” Queen Nithotep finally moved from her seat and retrieved the rings from Nesu Narmer’s chair. The Nesu motioned for her to distribute the rings. Each ring bore the Catfish and the Chisel emblems. “The center of the ring contains the only remaining artifact left by a God, in this mortal world. The center of the ring is a fragment of Wepwawet’s claw. Retrieved from Ete’s damaged sandal, the claw has been polished and set. I now need your help.”
Queen Nithotep returned to her seat. “Place the rings on the ground in front of your feet.” The Magicians dutifully followed the instructions. “I want you both to cast a spell of magic upon the rings. The rings should always move to point in the direction of the other ring. The spell should make the two halves of Wepwawet’s claw want to join. Can you do this?”
Both Magicians nodded and with a confirming look at each other set about their task of casting the powerful magic spell. Within seconds, the two rings flew across the stone floor joining at the polished setting, as if two powerful magnets had engaged. The Nesu smiled. “You will always know how to find each other. The rings will point you to the other Servant of Byblos.”
Ay could hear footsteps approaching. They reverberated through the narrow stone corridor. He quickly moved into his assigned position and tried to look happy to be relieved. A large guard approached, frowning at the prospect of starting his shift. Ay now understood the power of the artifacts. He wanted them and he knew he had to have them. Later he would form his own society, The Order of the Serpent, aimed at destroying the Servants of Byblos. His knowledge would threaten this allegiance throughout the ages. As the two promises endured, the legend of the artifacts and their power, endured also. Nesu Narmer was only too aware that greed and power would always motivate men to unusual ends.
“I hope you realize the significance of what you have promised here today. My security and the fate of Egypt now lie within your collective promise. The Gods were careless to leave these artifacts in our world. The Gods possess unlimited power. I’m your Nesu, your God in this world. I have to trust mortals with this enormous power. I trust my two Magicians implicitly. I know you will not let me down. This promise must extend well beyond your mortal lives. Twenty lives from now, can I trust your families to keep these promises? Will they have the same conviction as you have today? That is my fear. These rings bear my name, Nesu Narmer. I have to trust you but I will not sleep well tonight. Two promises, two very important promises, don’t let me down.”
Bener-ib and Ka looked at each other with steely determination flashing through their eyes. Both looked solemn and determined. They understood the serious nature of the task at hand. They were both Servants of Byblos, the original pair. Now they must resume their lives with this great responsibility. It would take five long years before Nesu Narmer went a full day without thinking about the artifacts. War had distracted him and he had more severe issues to concentrate upon. The Magicians kept the artifacts safe and ensured the longevity of the promise they made. Ay mobilized a group of followers and they tried desperately to find the Magicians and find the artifacts. Their stories grew with embellishment but their determination remained like an unquenched thirst.
* * * * *
Chapter 15: I need a Timmy’s Coffee
Burlington, Ontario, Canada, Present day.
It was almost noon when her stomach decided to send a clear and audible message. “Oh my,” she said concentrating on the traffic as the growling sound repeated from her empty stomach. “I’d better pull over and get something to eat,” she thought as she redirected her silver Mercedes northbound onto Brant Street. Sakura Tanaka had visited an old friend. Her friend was desperately lonely after her husband had passed away. He had fought valiantly against the ravages of cancer but had succumbed four months ago. Most people are good at showing immediate support as they try to help with the grieving process. Everyday life then has a habit of diverting well-meaning people into the fray. The widow will quickly slip from their conscious thoughts and that’s when the depression sets in. Carol Lombard was always a good friend. She gave Sakura some great advice when she struggled to get her business exploits off the ground. Carol was also a Mother. Sakura desperately needed sage advice when Kaigara was a rebellious teenager. Carol was a supportive and loyal friend, willing to dish out tough love when it was deserved. Sakura respected her for that. Seeing her this morning was rough. She seemed beaten down and in need of a pep talk. Her children had stopped calling and she had lost her purpose in life. This is a common realization for many women. She had devoted most of her life to raising their children and supporting her ailing husband. When he passed away she had lost her identity and struggled to find herself. This once confident, radiant, supportive role model was now a lonely girl, lost in the woods.
Sakura needed a pick me up. She was hungry but she also needed an energy shot, she felt drained. When you give someone so much of your positive energy, it leaves you feeling empty and drained. A large coffee would give her the jolt she needed. It was still early enough that she would sleep tonight and the coffee would not keep her awake. Sakura pulled her car into a small strip mall, recognizing the familiar logo of Tim Horton’s. When Sakura lived in England she quickly assimilated into the pub culture. The pub was not only a place to drink, it meant more than that to the English. It was the meeting place, to catch-up on gossip, discuss issues and exchange views. It was the hub of the community and played an important role in social discourse. Today was a beautiful warm day but Sakura’s mood did not match the vibe created by the glorious weather. Tim Horton’s was a coffee shop franchise. It sold sandwiches and soup, coffee, tea, muffins and donuts. It was more than a coffee shop to Canadians. It was the pub. People come to Tim Horton’s to grab a coffee, meet people and talk. This habit has permeated the Canadian culture so vividly; it showed up in their language. Election language would always refer to coffee shop politics. The general public and valued voter would discuss issues and candidates openly over coffee. So important was this activity that opinions would be galvanized and voting patterns set.
When Sakura entered Tim Horton’s, she joined a small lineup of people. Soon it was her turn and a pleasant young woman willingly accepted her order. She was dressed in a light beige blouse and a brown sun visor sporting the company logo. Sakura ordered a large double-double coffee and an egg salad sandwich. She procrastinated over the ginger bread cookie and decided to treat herself. She was served quickly and found a small table for two, tucked away in a quiet corner. She eagerly awaited the first gulp of her coffee as she tore open the lid’s plastic flap. She sighed contentedly. “I need this Timmy’s to give me a real boost today,” she thought. The sun streamed in through the glass windows as she watched cars parking and people going about their daily routines. A steady line of cars crawled through the drive-thru line, waiting to pickup their goods. The constant sound of conversation reverberated as people talked and laughed. The mood was light and the energy was positive.
Sakura started to eat her sandwich when her cell phone began to vibrate, causing a noise. It scurried across the flat tabletop. It then burst into a chime, signaling an incoming call. She reached for her Blackberry phone and activated it in one smooth motion. She pressed it to her ear and struggled to swallow the partially chewed food in her mouth.
“Hello? This is Sakura.”
“Sakura how are you? It’s David Lee calling.”
“David! I haven’t heard from you in a while, are you in Canada?”
“No,” he said with a laugh. “I’m at home in Hong Kong.”
Sakura did the math quickly in her head. “It’s almost midnight your time, can’t you sleep?”
David laughed again. “I’m relaxing at home, but I wanted to talk with you about a woman I met in Manila this week.” David walked slowly towards his penthouse window. It was close to midnight but the city of Hong Kong was still vibrant with abundant noise and light. David was a successful business entrepreneur and a self made multi-millionaire. He was an avid collector. He loved to collect items that others did not seem interested in. David studied religion and spirituality. David had studied spirituality in many cultures and was particularly fascinated with a common thread that seemed to weave its way through all cultures. David made a point of collecting experiences as well as artifacts. He had visited Egypt and seen the pyramids. He had meditated, high in the mountains at Machupicchu. David had the wealth to take him to the most interesting places. He observed this common thread when talking with specialists across cultures. In Aberdeen, a picture perfect harbor on the Island of Hong Kong lived an old man that David visited. David could not say how old he was but he had wisdom and insights like no other. David never knew his name and never asked. He referred to him as Sampan man.
David would drive to Aberdeen to take a twenty-minute Sampan boat ride with the old man. He would pick his brains and discuss spiritual issues. David had connected a common thread across seven distinct cultures. This thread transcended different periods in time, located in unique places across the globe.
Each culture would have their version of an afterlife. It was a commonly held belief that the soul or spirit leaves the physical body and goes to a special place. Through the ages different names have been associated with this place. It could be Valhalla, Heaven, Duat or any label that makes sense. What fascinated David was a common story that each culture had managed to embrace. In the mountains of Peru or the flat plains of the Egyptian desert, the common thread existed. During the dark ages of Medieval Europe or spanning the ancient warriors of China’s Dynasties, the common thread existed. Across the frozen northlands of the Inuit or the bleak beautiful lands of the Vikings, the common thread existed. From oral traditions passed down by the Hopi Indians to the warlords of Japan, the common thread existed. Throughout the eastern tribes of Africa, the common thread existed. Within the native Indians of Canada and across the vastness of the Ottoman Empire, the common thread existed. So many cultures believed in this common thread. It was integrated into their art, stories, legends and culture. David had become hooked and wanted to learn all he could. It was a controversial topic and he would be subject to ridicule if he were too enthusiastic. He was a successful businessman and people would tolerate his interest to a point.
Rich people are often known to be eccentric. This characteristic is often considered to be charming. Questions would still be asked about his ability to run a multi-billion dollar organization. Shareholders would be concerned about his judgment. David was wary about his interests when he was questioned. He disguised his interest as a fascination in collecting unusual art. This was seen as a safe way for him to conduct his studies. David was interested in the afterlife. He firmly believed that the body was merely a temporary housing for the spirit. After death, the spirit would travel to a place described so vividly by many cultures. What fascinated David was the enduring story. This story had manifested in many forms across the ages. It had repeated across many varied cultures. It was told differently but the common thread was always there.
Was it possible, under certain conditions, you could enter the afterlife through a gate? This method of entry has been described as a path, a gate, a lake, a boat ride, a tear in time, a shaft of light and an energy portal, among other descriptions. Does such a portal exist? Can a living person enter into the afterlife? Can they return? David had spoken with countless near death patients. He had determined each experience was different. The stories David collected involved fully conscious and living people. They possessed powers, enabling them to pass through a portal. Why would such a story perpetuate as widely as it has, if it were not based on some truth?
Throughout history, various groups had formed to protect or expose this thought. This added to the mystique. Exaggerations and deliberate red herrings were planted, to throw investigators off the scent. David had collected ancient manuscripts written in Latin, Arabic, Hebrew and languages that were long since dead. Ancient Egyptian tablets, scrolls and carvings adorned his expensive condominium suite. Visitors often admired the art but never seemed to connect the common theme linking each of the pieces. He had acquired artifacts from all over the world, spanning countless ages and cultures. He now had the largest collection of evidence pointing to alternate pathways to the afterlife.
Sakura shuffled her weight as she pressed her phone to her ear. “She made her money in fashion, she’s bright and exceptionally motivated. She runs her own company and she’s gorgeous,” enthused David.
A playful thought coursed through Sakura’s veins. The warm coffee slipped down her throat and gave her lackluster body a jolt of energy. “So, you want some womanly advice because you have designs on this woman?” teased Sakura.
“Not quite, although she is gorgeous. I’m just not ready to settle down yet, too much of a party boy.” David laughed with his trademark raucous laugh.
“So what’s so interesting about her, that you’re calling me at midnight?” asked Sakura with a growing curiosity.
“She’s rich, powerful, politically connected and gorgeous but here’s the kicker. Most successful people are driven, fuelled by something. With everything that she has going for her, she still feels inadequate and unhappy. She seems to have a hole in her heart, one that will never heal. She’s an orphan. Her parents abandoned her and she was raised in some pretty bad orphanages. When she told me this, I thought of your work. I mentioned the fine work that you’re doing in Sonagachi and with other orphanages in India. She seemed interested and wanted to talk with you, about starting a similar organization in the Philippines. I didn’t know if you would be interested but….”
“I would,” interrupted Sakura.
“Then I’ll forward you her contact information and perhaps this will lead to some good.”
“What were you doing in the Philippines David?”
“You know me, I’m always combining business with pleasure. I was interested in a business deal and was meeting some wealthy investors.”
“And?” she inquired.
“You know me too well Sakura. And, I had heard of an artifact. Hundreds of years ago boats were used to transport supplies and all kinds of exotic goods to the Philippines. These boats contained large slabs of stone used for ballast, deep within their hulls. Some boats never made it but some removed the stones when they reached port. The weight was replaced with cargo for the return journey. You can still see these large slabs of stone today in the Philippines. Some are incorporated into Churches. They were used for corner stones or large stone steps. This type of quarried stone is rare in the Philippines. Rich merchants would use the stone for court yards but Churches took the lions share.”
“Come on David, cut to the chase.”
“Sorry, you know how much I like this stuff. One of the stones had some unusual markings carved into the rock. The stone had been removed from a boat. Nobody could trace the stone’s origins prior to it being used as ballast. The stone had a past, far beyond the construction of the boat. Neat eh?”
“Stop teasing me with the ‘eh’ word. Not all Canadians say eh,” barked Sakura.
“Sorry, couldn’t resist. One of the local monks had an interest in scriptures and styles of writing. He’d spotted the strange markings on the stone. The stone was destined for use in an extension to the Church. He decided to use parchment and some charcoal to preserve the entire image. The stone was to be chiseled into pieces and used for construction. The resulting parchment was kept in the Church vaults for years. When the monk died, he was placed in a room with other dignitaries. It’s like a columbarium where modern day ashes are stored, only these are walls of full sized coffins. It was a coffin condominium.” David laughed at the ridiculousness of his statement. “Anyway, once the monk had passed the parchment seemed to disappear. Many years later the basement of the Church was being cleaned and the parchment was located. The basement was dark, wet and cold but somehow the parchment had survived.”
Sakura was enjoying the story and remained attentive. “I wanted to see the parchment. It had been so badly damaged that eventually it broke into small fragments. Fortunately, a local priest had an interest in preserving the history of the Church. He re-arranged the damaged pieces into a jigsaw puzzle of sorts. He copied the intricate designs and preserved the original message in a leather bound book, stored in the archive of the old Church. A friend of mine knew the current priest and alerted me to the recent flooding. The Philippines were recovering from this flood when I got the call. The Church was badly damaged and the roof had caved in from the storm. After emptying the storage areas an old book containing scribbles was found. My friend knew it was old and knew I would like to have it. I took a journey to see the book.”
“Did you like what you saw?”
“Sakura it was incredible. The book is a copy but the message is original. It was an Egyptian script, a message from long ago. If this had been a stone tablet, I would have had to give it back to the Egyptian authorities. Because it’s a book, and a copy, well all I can say is that it’s mine now.”
“Have you had it translated yet?”
“Yes. I had several people each working on a specific section. I’ll need to fill you in when we meet face-to-face next. I’m excited though. It talks about a gate and the ability to enter into this gate as a mortal. The gate is a two-way gate with the ability to let spirits pass through the other way. It’s called the possessed gate, roughly translated. So I’m right Sakura. People were talking about these gates three thousand years ago, can you imagine that?”
“They just gave you the book?” said Sakura missing the revelation of a two-way gate.
“No. I donated some money to repair the roof and build a drainage system to prevent future flooding. The Priest knew I had an interest in the book and asked how I could help them. At the time I didn’t even know what I had. It’s now the jewel of my entire collection. It’s like a repayment from God for helping the Church.”
“Why do I detect a tinge of sarcasm,” said Sakura smiling.
“Remember it’s a copy of the damaged stone rubbing, but it’s magnificent. It’s exactly what I want. It talks about the Servants of Byblos and the existence of a portal. Boring stuff to you, but for me this is the Holy Grail. I’m so excited.”
Sakura had no idea what David was talking about but humored him. “I’m happy for you. Now, when do you think I can reach out to your nameless woman in the Philippines?”
“I’m sorry Sakura, I got carried away there. I’ll send you her details as soon as we hang up. She’s not only expecting your call, she’s looking forward to talking with you and hoping that you two can do business together.”
“Great! Thanks for this David; you know how much I truly appreciate this.”
“I do and good luck my friend. Sakura, I’ve never told you this before but I do admire the work you do for others.”
It was the first time that David had referred to Sakura as a friend and she liked it. “Thanks David, and have a great night.” Sakura and David disconnected. She felt a little guilty for not letting David continue to explain why he was so excited. He was doing a nice thing and didn’t have to make the referral. David had easily brushed off her joke about his amorous intensions towards this woman. She often wondered about him. Her recent trips to Hong Kong exposed her to the rumors about David. Stories repeated around Wan Chai confirmed that David certainly liked the ladies. He couldn’t limit himself to just one. That was his problem. When you are young, fit and rich Hong Kong will supply you with as many beautiful women as you need. David always had a beautiful girl on his arm at every charity event. The high society women sniggered at him behind his back. He would always have a different woman but she would always look the same. David had a penchant for slim Asian women with long dark hair. He would insist they styled their hair with severe bangs and were always tall and leggy. His penchant for anything Egyptian had transferred into an ideal image of a woman. His gorgeous dates could have been transported across time from the palaces of the Egyptians.
Sakura sat back and enjoyed her coffee. “The possessed gate,” she repeated. The stress of the day rolled away and she felt good about her conversation with David. She remembered the snide remarks made by certain high society women. David had his faults but Sakura knew him as a hard worker who was good at what he did. He treats his workers fairly and they are extremely loyal to him. He was kind and generous. David liked the ladies, well so what? There are far worse crimes of humanity. David didn’t need to help Sakura with the referral: that was nice. She leaned back and smiled. It was then that she noticed she was being watched. A man opposite caught her eye. He was a bit younger than her but he ran his eyes up her leg and was embarrassed as he raised his gaze. Sakura’s piercing brown eyes met the man’s stare. He immediately looked away and pretended to be ambivalent.
It was time to go. Sakura had an hour-long drive back to Toronto. She should leave now before the traffic started to fill in. She didn’t want to get caught in the daily congestion. “Good old David,” she heard herself say.
“Thanks, come again,” said a perky teenage redhead girl, as she cleared away the table.
Sakura nodded and smiled politely. She noticed the man had turned his attention to the young redhead and she smiled knowingly as she left. Sakura headed for her parked car and positioned herself in the driver’s seat. She exhaled deeply as she placed her hands upon the steering wheel. She reached for her sunglasses and slid them on. The sun was bright and caressed her face. She tilted her face to accept the warm rays.
* * * * *
Haworth, West Yorkshire, England, Present day.
Beth tilted her face to accept the warm rays. The evening sun was a welcome change. Beth felt lonely. She had been the center of a lot of attention and had talked with many people, but she still felt lonely. Beth had often wondered how you could live in New York or Tokyo surrounded by so many people and still feel so lonely? She had read about this in novels and experienced it through movies. Surrounded by the end of the day tourists she now understood lonely. Beth headed home in a daze, her mind wandering as she tried to rationalize why Matt had left? Fragments of conversations swirled in her head. She recalled the surveillance video that the police had shown her. She recalled a comment she had made to the policewoman at the station. “He’s acting like he’s possessed. Possessed,” that word rattled around her brain as she passed people in her trance.
Matt had uncharacteristically disappeared and was now acting strange. Perhaps he was possessed? It would certainly explain his odd behavior. Beth picked up her pace. Matt had left her; she must get on with her life and deal with it. That was the part that stung like a fresh bee sting. She trusted Matt and for the first time in her life, felt she had something special. Now she felt hollow and used. She didn’t deserve this.
Beth approached the door of her cottage, as the sun retreated over the steep hill. It was darker and colder in the shade of the building. She shivered as she entered, closing the door on the world outside. Beth started to cry then sobbed deeply.
* * * * *
Chapter 16: Hope is Nature’s Veil
Haworth, West Yorkshire, England, Present day.
Beth dropped the spoon into her teacup and jumped backwards, recoiling from the loud knock at the door. The cottage had an electric doorbell, but the button was hard to see and no one seemed to use it. She scurried from the kitchen and leaned across a chair, near the window. From this vantage point, she could see out of the window and onto the front step. She could see who was knocking, without opening the door. Beth recognized the silhouette of the tall man standing on her top step. The distinctive uniform and hat indicated PC Eric Bates had decided to visit. It was getting dark and the wind was picking up again. She moved to the door and unlatched the brass mechanism.
“Hello Beth, I hope you don’t mind the intrusion, I was just doing my rounds and I noticed your light on. I know most people don’t like to see the police on their front step,” he said in a jovial manner.
“We are governed not by armies and police, but by ideas.” It sounded a bit snide but Beth didn’t mean it to be.
“I wanted to see if you were okay, is this a good time?” he said, ignoring her comment.
“Sure. Come on in, I could use some company.”
PC Bates looked puzzled, trying to figure out her mood. “I don’t mean to intrude?”
“No problem really, I just brewed up a fresh pot of tea. You look cold, want some?” Beth turned her back and headed for the kitchen.
PC Bates removed his hat with his right hand. He stooped to enter the cottage and closed the heavy wooden door behind him. It closed with a solid thud.
“Give it a firm push, it sometimes sticks,” shouted Beth from the kitchen. She emerged with two steaming cups of tea. “I always fear that creation will expire before tea time. So what brings you around here, seriously? Got any news?”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t. I really wanted to see how you’re doing?”
“It’s said that to be truly happy, you must not be too concerned with others. But thanks, that’s nice. I’m doing fine. Sit please.” She motioned to a large space on the couch.
“Have you heard from Matt at all?” he said, warming his fingers on the teacup.
“No, not directly.”
“Not directly?” quizzed PC Bates.
“Well, I mean I hear things from the locals. They point and scurry away as if I have the plague. I hear them talk, as if I can’t hear them. They have all kinds of creative scenarios and some I’m starting to believe. The fact is he’s left me. It’s not a crime to break someone’s heart. I know that now and I’m close to moving on.”
“Beth, did Matt do any drugs at all?”
Beth shook her head, “No. He wouldn’t even eat in an unhealthy way.”
“I need to know, because he looked a little odd, on the tape we have of him in London. He was talking, but no one was near him. He shifted in a funny way, as if he were high.”
“No, he didn’t do drugs.”
“You’d told me that before, but he looked weird. My colleagues commented several times that he looked high or possessed.” Beth rolled her eyes in disdain. PC Bates sipped the hot tea carefully. “I guess it’s not good, if you’re in the middle of it.”
“It?” quizzed Beth.
“Sorry, I was thinking of a saying my Mother used all the time. A little public scandal is good once in a while – takes the tension out of the news.” He looked sheepish, not knowing what reaction he would get.
Beth sipped her tea and stared ahead into the distance. “Beryl Pfizer,” she murmured.
“Sorry?”
“Beryl Pfizer said that, that’s where your Mum got it from.”
“Beth, you really okay?”
Beth changed her focus and locked in on PC Bates. He was genuinely concerned but she could see in his eyes, that he knew Matt was not coming back. “People are nice, here in Haworth. Sure, some will always gossip but most are nice. We’re a hardy breed us Yorkshire folk. We try to take care of our own. I try not to listen to the gossip.”
“You’re a smart lady Beth. You know, there’s not a lot we can do. I don’t think he’s coming back. I do know he’s alive and not trying too hard to cover his tracks.”
“Hope is nature’s veil for hiding truth’s nakedness.”
“Do you still have hope Beth?”
“You can see the red in my eyes, from my tears. My tears signify that I have depleted my hope. No, I have no hope left for Matt, I’m moving on.”
“Sometimes it’s harder to deprive oneself of a pain than of a pleasure. Sorry Beth, that’s a quote I heard in court once.”
Beth smiled, “F. Scott Fitzgerald. I’m going to be okay, really. In a way, I hope he doesn’t come back. It’s cleaner this way. I’m thinking of going away and taking a trip. Blow the cobwebs out of my mind.”
“London?”
“No, probably abroad.” Beth shook her head, as she said the words.
“I think that might be good for you. Beth, I’m old enough to be your Father and my Daughter is about your age. Don’t get creeped out by this, but you’re a pretty girl. Your future is full of promise and there will be plenty of time for others in your life.” PC Bates shuffled awkwardly.
“I appreciate the kind words and I’m not creeped out. I know you’re trying to prop up my fragile ego. A decent boldness ever meets with friends.” Beth raised her eyes once more.
PC Bates wrinkled his forehead. “You’ve outsmarted me again.”
“Homer.”
“Simpson?” he said with a devilish smirk. “I’d better go before I show my education level. I’m glad to see you’re on the mend.”
“You know, I do appreciate you checking in with me but I’m over him. I’m not depressed and I won’t do anything stupid. I’m gutted, because I thought he was the one. I’ll live through this and get stronger. I’ve faced worse.”
“That’s the spirit,” said PC Bates, resting his half empty teacup on a coaster. “I’d better be off, thanks for the tea love,” he said, nodding his head in the direction of the cup. Beth just smiled and watched as the village policeman let himself out. The room was quiet now and she could hear her own breathing. It raced along with the tick of the wall clock. She had been crying when PC Bates knocked on the door. After he left, that somber feeling returned and she felt very alone. She marveled at how she had gone through life alone and developed a hard self-sufficient core. Once she had fallen for Matt, she truly thought she would never have to be alone again. She was ready to share her life.
Tears started to well in her eyes and she struggled to regain her composure. “I’m a woman damn it, I need to talk this out.” Beth racked her brains and finally the answer flooded into her conscious thoughts. “Sakura! She’d know what to do.”
Beth leaned over to the side table and punched the pre-programmed key on her phone. Sakura’s number flashed upon the display. She tapped the dial button and a thought raced through her mind. “Oh no, what time is it in Toronto?” She quickly did the math and felt better; knowing it was mid afternoon, as Toronto was five hours behind.
“Hello?” said a woman’s voice, seemingly out of breath.
“Is this Sakura?”
“Yes, I just got home and ran for the phone.” She didn’t know who it was and her brain frantically tried to place the voice.
“Hi, it’s me Beth. I really need to talk; I need a friend right now.”
Sakura could hear the stress in Beth’s voice; she knew this sounded serious. “Hold on Beth, I just need to get organized and then we can chat. Hold on a second.” Sakura placed her purse on the kitchen counter, closed the door and locked it. She switched on the lights. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and settled onto the couch, holding the cordless phone. “Now, what’s up my dear?”
Beth raced through her story, talking quickly and gasping for the breath that allowed her to continue. Her sentences streamed together, like the constant lapping of waves. She described the events with a cold emotional detachment. Beth didn’t offer her opinions she just described the facts. Sakura listened intently. She was engaged and listening intensely. As Beth continued, she described her experiences with the local police and the picture taken by the banking machine. Sakura had never met Matt but she sensed that something was wrong. The facts didn’t seem to add up. She remembered how Beth had helped her, in her time of need. Sakura was at her wits end and desperate for help, to deal with her relative Toshie. Toshie was problematic and had unique attributes that were difficult to comprehend. Beth was there when Sakura needed her the most. She had dropped everything and had assisted Toshie, relieving the family of a growing burden. Sakura desperately wanted to help to repay this debt. This would be her first opportunity to help Beth. Beth sounded fragile and disorganized. Her usually calm exterior had been stripped away. Sakura could hear the frustration and the anxiety. Beth knew something was wrong and she could not accept the facts for what they were. Something else was at play here and she hoped Sakura could use her wisdom, to help her decipher this puzzle.
“He looked like he was possessed. It was Matt; you could recognize him from his clothes and his face. He seemed strange. He talked to himself and his activities were unusual. They seemed out of character. He looked like he was on remote control, as if he were possessed. I know what its like to have someone else inside you, guiding you. Try talking about that to the police.”
“Do you think Matt fell into some trouble? Perhaps he had fallen in with the wrong crowd?” asked Sakura delicately.
“No. I’ve racked my brains trying to come up with something.”
“Well,” said Sakura trying to lighten the mood. “Men are like fires, they go out if unattended.”
“Nice,” replied Beth. “But I think Zsa Zsa Gabor said it was husband’s are like fires.”
“Can’t get a quote past you eh Beth?”
“No. I’ve come a long way to learn something so obvious.”
Sakura waited and could not stand the silent pause, “What do you mean?”
“I think it stems back to the Shell, the portal in Brussels. At the time, I felt nothing of it but now I’m suspicious. The portal opened and the spirit warriors passed through. I felt something. I wasn’t sure what I felt but I felt something. The more I think about this, the more I become convinced.”
Sakura strained to hear the words but felt unsatisfied in her curiosity. “What did you feel?”
“I felt energy. It felt like a spirit.” Beth paused and Sakura waited her out. “Like a spirit passing through the open portal. It took me some time to figure out what I felt; but now I’m sure. This energy passed though me and into the person holding my hand. Matt was the one reaching out to help me from the floor. This spirit passed into Matt. I think Matt is possessed. Do you think it’s possible? I’ve tried to rationalize this all in my mind. I know it sounds far fetched but you, of all people, know how hard it is to describe this sort of thing. Think back to our first meeting. You tried to explain to me that you had a 140 year’s old relative. I’m certain that Matt doesn’t have control. His actions are not consistent with the Matt I know. I know what he’s like and I know he’s changed. He’s fighting with the spirit inside of him for control. He’s lost it Sakura, he’s now …”
Beth could not complete the sentence, for fear of ridicule. She knew what Sakura must have been thinking. This was a fanciful explanation of why Matt walked out on her. It was pure denial.
“He’s possessed.” Sakura completed her sentence. “Beth, I’d like to introduce you to a dear friend of mine. He’s a believer and probably the most informed person alive today, about the existence of portals. He has no practical experience like you but he might be able to help. He would love to meet you and understand your experiences. I don’t know why but I have a feeling that he might be able to help you. Are you open to this?”
“I just need some help from people who are not going to judge me or subject me to ridicule.”
Sakura tried to reassure, “David will understand, I’ll call him and arrange for you both to talk. He’s in Hong Kong but I’m sure he’ll be interested in meeting with you.”
“I just need help, before I lose my mind. Matt needs help.”
Sakura tried to calm Beth down. The two ladies talked like old friends for over an hour. “I’ll need to let you go now Beth but I have a request.”
“Sure, what can I do?”
“You mentioned that you have an image or a still photo, it was taken of Matt retrieving some cash from a machine in London.”
“Yes,” said Beth with an inquisitive tone?
“I’d like a copy of it; can you get me a copy?”
“Sure, I can scan it and email it to you. It’ll be a bit grainy. Why do you need a copy?”
“I’m going to show it to David. He loves a mystery and this image will hook him in. This guy will help you find Matt. If your hunch is right, then David will be interested in the portal and will want to find Matt quickly.”
Beth completed her chat with Sakura and thanked her for being a good friend. She had no idea who David was. She was skeptical that he could help. She felt better for sharing her troubles. It was getting late and Beth was starting to tire. She scanned the picture into her PC. She attached it to an email addressed to Sakura. Staring at the picture, she saw the haunted look on Matt’s face. She didn’t want to look but she couldn’t resist. It was as if some macabre force drew her in. The image stuck in her mind and remained there, well into her dreams.
Hong Kong Island, Hong Kong, Present day.
David Lee studied the image flickering upon his computer screen. He used his mouse to select the print button. He had cropped the image, zooming in on Matt’s face and the pendant hanging around his neck. David reached for his cell phone and dialed the number simply identified as Sampan Man. David dialed his old friend and was greeted with a cheery “Hello?”
“It’s me David; I really need to talk with you. It’s a matter of great importance.”
“The harbor has a swell today and my stomachs a bit upset. Can it wait until tomorrow?” pleaded Sampan Man.
“No it can’t. I have to see you today; I’m flying out tomorrow. This will interest you and I need some straight advice. I wouldn’t call you, if I didn’t think it was important.”
David sounded stressed and his voice had an urgency not heard before. The Sampan Man was wise and intuitive. “I’m not up for a Sampan ride today. If you insist, you can visit me in my apartment. Let’s get one thing clear though. I’m allowing you to meet with me. It sounds urgent and I’d like to help. Don’t do this again, do you understand?”
“Yes,” said David, feeling like a scolded school kid.
“Get a pen and paper.” The Sampan Man waited then resumed. “Apartment 504, Number 3, Ap Lei Chau Drive, the Sham Wan Towers. Get here soon and never tell anyone where I live, am I clear?”
“Yes,” said David in a compliant manner. He didn’t understand why it was such a secret. “I’ll be leaving from downtown in about five minutes.”
“I’ll expect you and it better be important.”
He sounded grumpy and irritated but the Sampan Man knew everything about portals. David had run across him several times, taking an interest in the same artifacts that he would buy. He was always outbid and seemed to have a fairly low limit. David respected his knowledge and had spent many a boat ride learning from the Sampan Man. He wasn’t allowed to ask him who he was or where he gained his knowledge. That was made clear to him. When he got close to this boundary, the Sampan Man abruptly finished any further conversation. With David’s financial resources, he could have him followed and investigated easily. It was more fun, more honest, to leave their relationship pure, with a little mystery involved. It was not long before David found himself standing in front of the door to apartment 504. He drew a deep breath and lightly rapped the burgundy colored door, with his knuckles. He waited patiently. The door opened and the Sampan Man stood frowning, as their eyes met.
“Well, you’d better come in,” he barked.
David entered the small apartment flooded with light from two large windows. The walls were mirrored and rich colored floors, made from hard wood, reflected the light. The windows afforded a spectacular view of the lush green hills, undulating like waves. The apartment was tastefully decorated, with fine Turkish rugs, Chinese vases, Indian carvings, English porcelains and Italian silk. A few pieces of art were sparingly arranged throughout the small apartment. He glanced at the tasteful electric fireplace, as synthetic flames flickered. Above the fireplace was a framed picture, positioned in a place of honor. David wondered why such an interesting, yet simple, piece of art took the prime place in the apartment. Other pieces appeared far more impressive. The frame was black and contained four gold arrows. Each colored arrowhead touched in the center. The feathered end of the arrows nestled into a corner of the square frame. The frame held a mirror with the arrow design placed on top. Within the frame were two black elliptical designs that looked like an eye. The arrow tips all pointed to the pupil, in the center of the eye.
The Sampan Man sat with his back to the rolling hills, relaxing into his favorite armchair. He motioned for David to take the couch. David obliged, resting his weight on the edge of the couch.
“Would you like some water or tea perhaps?” Sensing David’s reaction the Sampan Man moved onwards quickly. “Then we’ll get straight down to business.”
David nodded nervously. “I received a call from a dear friend of mine, someone I trust. She described a story involving her friend in England. The young lady is distraught because her boyfriend disappeared suddenly. She has direct experience with portals and she suspects her boyfriend is possessed. She sent me this image of him retrieving cash from an ATM in London. I will direct your attention to his neck.”
David passed the Sampan Man his printed sheet. The Sampan Man studied the image and returned the sheet to David. His hand was shaking but he didn’t make a sound. “Well, what can you tell me Sampan Man?”
What is it that you want to know?”
“I want to know everything, the truth.” David stared hard at the Sampan Man.
“The truth is rarely pure and never simple.” The Sampan Man rubbed his chin with his fingers.
“Oscar Wilde, from the Importance of Being Earnest,” he said.
“Which act?” He flicked his eyes upwards in a fast motion.
“Act one.”
“And the date?” the Sampan Man questioned.
“Is this a test?” David was starting to get irritated.
“The date?” the Sampan Man repeated.
“1895.”
“Good. You’re an educated man; I have no doubts about that. Oscar Wilde was 41 when he wrote those words. You have your whole life to live but I envy your knowledge, for such a young age. The question is, how much knowledge do you want? Once you know, you can never go back to simpler times. Once you know certain things, different types of people become very interested in you. They want access to you and they will want to track your whereabouts. Some of these people have strong motives and they’re not well intentioned. They’ll want to know where you live.”
“Who are they?” asked David leaning in.
“Just they,” the Sampan Man flashed a stern look; he was not going to explain. The visit had felt strange. Normally they would meet for the Sampan ride and the tone was always friendly and cordial. Today seemed strained and disjointed. Was he ticked off because of the break in routine?
“I need to tell you some information. It’s why you came here but I’m cautious, because I don’t know if you’re ready? Are you ready for the responsibility of this knowledge?”
David stared at the Sampan Man in an aggressive challenging way, “Yes.” The Sampan Man directed his eyes to his clenched hands. “I’m heading on a plane to England tomorrow. I’m going to talk with the young woman who has experienced the portal.” David pointed to the image, “I intend to help her find this man. I know it could be dangerous. I would appreciate knowing what I’m stepping into. You know something that will help me, don’t you? That’s why I’m here, because I knew you would.”
“Okay.” The Sampan Man eased back into his chair and took a long deep breath. He exhaled in a noisy fashion, as if contemplating his next move. “You’d better hold on, because I don’t know how far down this rabbit hole you’re willing to go. I have the ability to blow your mind wide open. I know that you collect portal artifacts and you know more than most about this subject. A few powerful people also know about portals. They don’t know where they are or how to activate them. This type of power corrupts. They will abuse this knowledge and create issues through their irresponsible misguided actions. This has been the fear for the keepers of this knowledge for thousands of years. This knowledge cannot fall into the wrong hands. For thousands of years,” he repeated. “Sit comfortably for this will take a while to explain. Be patient and don’t interrupt. I’m only going to explain this to you once, so concentrate. It’ll lead back to your young man here but be patient and let me finish.” The Sampan Man lifted his eyes and looked at Matt’s printed image resting upon his coffee table.
“Current thinking suggests that recorded history starts between 5,000 to 7,000 years ago, in Egypt and Iraq. Most of the theories are a bit sketchy and easily debunked. Some believers talk about a powerful culture, advanced for its time. This culture existed in a place now submerged. Atlantis has been over romanticized in books and movies. This is a fabled place, where all manner of fanciful things are supposed to have happened. I’m not interested in Atlantis. I want to go back before Atlantis, 30,000 years before Christ.
Can you even imagine that? I’m not talking about lizard people or aliens; forget that stuff. I’m referring to a period of about 15,000 years before the early writings of Egypt. Was there an advanced society of humans that has shaped and influenced societal behaviors today? Plate tectonics suggest a shift in our landmasses. Large plates have broken apart since this time. It’s impossible to relate the location of such a place on a map of the globe today. Many who believe in this advanced society try to locate it in the Indian or Pacific Ocean. Tamil writers of India, Inca artists in Peru, Maori elders of New Zealand and native Indians in California, all tell of this place. It existed in the old world and suffered a cataclysmic event that almost eradicated this culture’s existence.
In 1864 zoologist Philip Slater wrote a controversial article on the anomalies of Mammal Fauna, which suggested a significant shift, and amalgamation of continents to form what we see today. This gained acceptance before plate tectonics and continental drift were even contemplated. A secretly funded group researched this theory. One insider called Melchior Neumayr broke ranks to publish his book Erdgechichte in 1887. Controversy grew around the missing link fossils. The only explanation was a missing land bridge, a continent now lost. Ernst Haeckel, a German, using the fossil record as his justification, advanced this concept.
We go a little crazy after that with all kinds of characters advancing theories of sea creatures, aliens and mystical lands. Some were encouraged, to act as a smoke screen to camouflage the truth. The truth can be less fanciful but still astounding. Could a large land mass disappear under the ocean? This would force its inhabitants to flee and disperse across the globe, taking their culture and wisdom with them. Sound fanciful?
In 1999, a Joides Resolution research vessel was drilling in the Indian Ocean. They discovered a large Island. Submerged about twenty million years ago, this Island offered up evidence in the drilling samples. Pollen, seeds, wood and other signs of land life, were found in the 90 million year old sediment.
Let’s go back to our mysterious island. Helena Blavvatsky named this place Lemuria, in the 1880’s. She spread a lot of misinformation about root races and egg laying lizard races. It was all very entertaining. It was a great smoke screen for the privately funded research into Lemuria. The Englishman William Scott Elliot described Lemuria as, “A continent that occupied a large part of what is now the South Pacific Ocean.” I have to laugh at the fertile imagination of some people. If we stick with Lemuria or whatever you want to call this place, enough noise has been generated to confuse everyone. There’s enough credible evidence to suggest that Lemuria existed. I’m not talking about continents or lizard people. I’m talking about an island of some considerable size. This was a volcanic Island, which existed a long time ago. The Islanders were advanced in many ways. Using their knowledge of mathematics, they watched the stars and specialized in building pyramids. They had strong cultural ties and formed an orderly society built on peace, respect and education.
The Egyptians, Plato and various groups of Indians, all speak about this culture through their art and their ancient writings. All of these diverse sources are eerily familiar and consistent across the globe. They talk of an advanced culture with a multitude of gifts. One gift stands out above all others. Some of the Islanders had managed to move higher in their collective connected consciousness. Through meditation, they had managed to change their natural vibration. They had managed to develop their third eye and could communicate using thought. They could connect across distance and were working to develop connectedness across time.
Only a select few had managed this progression; they were members of the Twelfth Church. They valued education. Children were schooled until they were twenty-one years of age. The most gifted and enlightened were groomed as spiritual leaders, progressing through the Churches and the various levels. They were encouraged to hone their skills. Only eight Masters, surrounded by purple and white auras, had progressed to the Twelfth Church. One of the Masters was named Cryanna. She had managed to break through to the next level of mastery. Cryanna could change her natural body vibration patterns to communicate with dead spirits. She would receive flash visions of the future. Cryanna was asked to form the Thirteenth Church, known as The Great White Brotherhood. The white in the name referred to her new aura, pure white. She had selected five of the most promising students to teach these new powers. They were sworn in as ascended Masters.
Cryanna used crystals, mined from the deepest parts of Lemuria. These glass-like crystals had strong healing powers but were powerful in other ways. Cryanna knew that she could program the crystals using her mind. This skill was taught in the Tenth Church. Using her highly developed third eye, Cryanna had managed to channel her ancestors from another time. They had given her a prophetic warning. The volcano on the Island would erupt and eradicate the entire land mass. She had horrific visions and prepared the Islanders for this impending event. They built large reed rafts, stocked and prepared for the fateful day.
When the volcano started its early remonstrations the Islanders activated their plan to leave in an orderly manner. The Thirteenth Church had stored artifacts and Lemurian crystals to be transported by the rafts. The crystals contained valuable information, needed in the new world. Designers, scholars, politicians, engineers, farmers, artists, cooks and people from all walks of life boarded the rafts. Cryanna had foreseen the destruction of the Island. What she had failed to see was the swiftness of the eruption and the resulting tsunami. Large waves crashed upon the rafts. Most of them sank taking with it the knowledge and skills of the Lemurian people.
Days before the eruption, Cryanna and her pupils were working on a complex problem. Can it be possible to take a free spirit of pure white energy and store it within a Lemurian crystal? How could you open up a portal, using your meditative mind, to provide a home for a spirit when it passes through? Cryanna was close to solving this. She had developed eight crystal pendants, each selected for their pureness. The best crystals, expertly programmed by Cryanna, were ready to provide a temporary home to a traveling spirit. Each Master wore the crystal around their neck, held by a gold clasp in the shape of a distinctive sea serpent.
The Island exploded; the volcano’s force blasted the hard mass into pieces. It fell to the sea floor taking with it earth’s most advanced culture. It’s chronicled by many cultures around the planet. Augustus Le Plongeon died in 1908. He claimed to have translated ancient Mayan wall carvings. These were older than the Greek or Egyptian civilizations. He claimed that a Master from Lemuria kick started the culture of Egypt. They thought he was a living God. Others fled to South America and as far away as China and India.
James Churchwood builds upon these findings in his book, ‘The Lost Continent of Mu,’ published in 1931. The drilling in the Indian Ocean proves that civilizations can be lost to the sea. Large decorated rock monuments, many a storey high, have been found submerged on the ocean floor. They’re strewn across the Pacific. They stretch from Japan’s Yonaguni underwater site, to cryptic petroglyphs on Hawaii’s Big Island. Samoans still talk of a place called Bolutu, where the power of the mind can affect matter. This was a place where a Master could walk through a tree. The Maoris, through their oral traditions, recall arriving from the sinking Island of Hawaiki. It was described as a vast place, the other side of the water. These cultures were prolific builders and built pyramids to assist with the charting of the heavens and establishment of the next pole shift. They were trying to tell us something David. They were trying to tell us when the next polar shift would occur. The Earth will shift and wipe societies complacent smile from their face. They were trying to warn us.
Decorated Inca stones found in Peru show primitive maps, it shows a lost land mass. Private groups have collected evidence of this nation and have tried to harness their powers. We know of their existence from ancient manuscripts and sacred fables, passed down through the ages. Even Plato referred to a similar place, in one of his famous documented speeches. It is believed this civilization existed tens of thousands of years ago. Earthquakes, volcanoes and floods eradicated this civilization twenty four thousand years before Christ, as the Earth’s poles shifted.
Some of the rafts sent forth from the Island made it to land safely. It’s believed some landed in South America. They taught the Mayans the calendar and the star system. It’s believed some landed in and traveled throughout India. The Rig Veda speaks of the three continents that were. The Popol Vuh or Maya story of creation, talks to the epic escape to dry land. This story takes us to 2012. Before the ancient volcanic upheaval, this society was known to worship the sun. David, it’s interesting that both Egypt and the Mayans were converted to worship the sun. Each developed writing skills and each built pyramids.
The spiritual Masters of Lemuria were given different instructions to the elders and society leaders. Once they reached dry land, they were told to head to the tallest mountains and create a sanctuary in the clouds. Here, they would be safe from future floods. They travelled for many years, to find the place they had seen in their visions. Only three Masters survived the floods. Cryanna drowned, she did not make it to dry land safely. Each Master left with a set of carefully assembled belongings, containing programmed crystals with sacred teachings.
Finally, after years of walking and climbing, the Masters had reached their sanctuary in the clouds. They had reached the place to re-establish the Thirteenth Church. They would restart the spiritual teachings of Lemuria. High in the mountains of Tibet, they established a place to house the Thirteenth Church. They called this place, The Monastery of the Eight Rays.
The three Masters created a school. They taught sacred geometry, the golden mean and the Phi Ratio. The Masters meditated, they changed their bodies’ natural frequencies using the power of their minds. Sometimes they would disappear into trances that would last for days. They would talk about astral travel. This was travel of the mind, released from the shackles of the body. They could raise their body temperature using the mind. Stories are told of the freezing cold nights on top of the mountain. The Masters would wrap their bodies in sheets, soaked in ice water. After intense meditation, steam would start to rise from their wraps. The Master’s bodies would evaporate the water using their body heat. The Masters could talk to each other across great distances. They had harnessed the ability to spiral their conscious thought patterns into higher frequencies of knowing.
For hundreds of years, the remote location protected the sanctuary in the clouds, from countless invaders. Each year, a few wiling students, were admitted to the Great White Brotherhood. Only the truly enlightened could join the Brotherhood. They were contacted and educated through their minds. They demonstrated purity of thought. This advanced frequency resonated with the sanctuary in the clouds. Many thought they were talking directly with the Gods themselves. I don’t know David, perhaps they were.
This school, within the Thirteenth Church, slowly became known to the outside world. The existence of The Monastery of the Eight Rays has always been denied. Tibetan leaders simply laugh at the absurd notion, dismissing it as pure fantasy. It’s a fantasy, that a place would house a group of spiritual leaders, blessed with knowledge and wisdom from long ago. It’s pure speculation that each modern day leader would commit to a self-journey of enlightenment. It is said, that students present today, are learning to harness the power of their minds. They learn to vibrate at higher frequencies and develop a pure white aura. This will give you entry into the Thirteenth Church and allow you to influence people through your thoughts and dreams. It will give you access to wisdom and knowledge from countless people, alive or dead.
Do you get it David? If you can resonate at this frequency, you can be there, at the sanctuary in the clouds. You can learn from teachers who are still physically there, as well as teachers long since gone. All of the living students, in the sanctuary in the clouds, have purple and white auras. They aspire to pure white auras. They’re spiritually wealthy and it will take many years of devoted study, to be admitted to the Thirteenth church. If you’re lucky enough to progress to this frequency, you’ll join the likes of Kumara, Christ, Buddha, Krishna, Kukulcan, Cryanna and others. It is the spiritual center, located right in your own mind.
Through your mind, you can enter the afterlife and access knowledge. Many people want this access with instant gratification. Many want to open a portal and be able to pass through it to feel the power. They’re not enlightened. They haven’t developed their skills and are ill prepared for this experience. Power corrupts and they’re not ready.”
The Sampan Man shifted his weight and shook his head in a sad gesture. “I’m nowhere near that state of enlightenment, in case you were wondering. The Thirteenth Church and The Monastery of the Eight Rays do exist. I’ve journeyed to this location as a young man. I will always deny its existence as foolish ramblings. I couldn’t break through and have spent the rest of my life learning to live with my limitations. There are powerful people who want that instant short cut. They’ll stop at nothing to get this power. The Chinese Government is afraid of Tibet. They’re afraid of what is happening in the clouds. Afraid of a bunch of bald headed monks - why? China could be the aggressor and invade these sacred temples. For hundreds of years they’ve been warned to stop interfering with the Thirteenth Church. They’re so afraid that they posture like a big schoolyard bully, but they dare not pick that fight.
Here’s how it relates to you David, my patient friend. Many years ago in Egypt, a secret society named The Order of the Serpent was formed. Its main purpose was to overthrow the Pharaoh King and seize power. They didn’t really want the throne, although many thought they did. The real power lay in the artifacts that would unlock a mysterious portal. This power would grant access to the afterlife and forbidden knowledge. The ruling Pharaoh elected the two most powerful Magicians to guard the artifacts. The two Magicians were known as the Servants of Byblos. I’m giving you the abbreviated version here. One group was sworn to protect the artifacts, the other sworn to uncover these powerful secrets. Good versus Evil, do you get my drift? For thousands of years, these groups have surfaced and disappeared, in the secret whisperings of castle, palace and Church hallways. Throughout history, the popularity with this struggle has waned and re-ignited. Powerful men have resurrected the search for these artifacts. They have become a fascination with these secret societies. I wasn’t sure at first if this was a childish rivalry, perpetuated by two groups of rich men. Then I noticed a thin pale man, buying specific items at auctions, all around the world. I saw this happening before you were born. He always bid anonymously, but his call sign, at the auction, was Ay. Ay was the name of the Egyptian guard and founding member of the Order of the Serpent.
I tracked his activities, buying up old manuscripts, artwork and books, describing the portal or legends supporting its existence. He was researching portals and trying to figure out, how to use this knowledge. I watched him buy seemingly worthless artifacts. A bottle of holy water, supposed to have been created out of thin air, by some Japanese woman. Stone tablets stolen from the Incas and bought on the black market.”
David could wait no more. “Who was this man?”
“Kieran Dwyer, a very wealthy businessman. He was born in Bath, but was educated at Oxford University. Do you remember the jeweled Turkish dagger, with the interesting inscriptions on the handle? This was presented for auction last month. People were only allowed to see the inscriptions with a very large cash deposit. The dagger was a private sale. It is rumored the inscriptions talked about the Servants of Byblos. Kieran Dwyer bought that dagger. Do you remember it? Sotheby’s at Chatsworth, I think?”
“Yes, I was there. It still hurts me today, that I was outbid on that one. It had inscribed markings on the handle. It described a box so powerful that the Ottoman Empire was distracted trying to find this box.”
“Well, our friend Kieran bought that. He also bought a Venetian journal that described a chance encounter with a drunken sea merchant. The merchant told an incredible story of an Egyptian Amulet. This could all be coincidence but I happen to believe that there are no coincidences. Kieran is married and has never been photographed in the last twenty years. The newspapers will never print his picture and refuse to add him to any lists. Forbes magazine doesn’t recognize his existence.”
“But he’s loaded?”
“Loaded, doesn’t do it justice. He’s from really old money, before Rockefeller. His latest activities seem to be buying rare first edition books by Blavatsky, Elliot and Bramwell.”
“He’s interested in Lemuria.”
“Yes, he’s also acquired some companies in Canada, Ukraine and Peru.”
“What type of companies?”
“Mining,” the Sampan Man said with a cough.
“What for, gold?”
The Sampan Man reached forward and grabbed the paper image from the coffee table, “Lemurian crystals. This man is wearing a Lemurian crystal pendant. I’m sorry, a priceless Lemurian crystal pendant. Can you see the sea serpent design, holding the crystal?” The Sampan Man flipped the page towards David, who studied the image.
David stuttered, “Is this really a Lemurian Master’s crystal?”
“Programmed by Cryanna personally, to receive and house spirits from another world.”
“How did he get it and does he know what he’s got?”
“I know this guy. I’ve seen him hanging around with Kieran’s son. He’s about the same age. The son followed in his Dad’s footsteps and went to Oxford University. I recognize this kid now, he went to Oxford too, and I’ve seen him hanging around the auction house with Kieran’s son.”
“What’s he up to? Beth said he was acting like he was possessed.”
“There’s a good chance he is. That crystal is very powerful; it can house a spirit. I’ve never seen one in existence before; I’ve only heard stories that some have survived. If that is an authentic Cryanna Lemurian Master crystal then a spirit could be guiding him.”
“Or controlling him?”
“The crystal is priceless and exceptionally rare. It takes a Master to program a crystal like that. Cryanna was exceptional. There’s no way Kieran would entrust it to some punk. There’s something wrong here. Kieran’s been trying to use his knowledge of Lemuria to find the sacred artifacts and unlock the portal. Spirits from the afterlife would have access to secret knowledge. They would know of the artifacts and their locations. You need to find out who this kid really is and stop this plan. Matt’s a big part of this plot. A dangerous and powerful group is backing him. Kieran has business partners. He doesn’t act alone. The Order of the Serpent will try to find the artifacts. They will try to locate the two guardians, the Servants of Byblos.”
“Good versus evil.”
“Sometimes, good needs a helping hand. How is your friend ….?”
“Beth?”
“Yes, how is she mixed up with this?”
David looked at the image, “I’m not sure but I’m going to find out.”
“You’ll need to find out how they’ve managed to get a spirit through the portal and into this crystal. Not only how, but who is this spirit and what are they up to?
“You’re in danger now for telling me this, right?” David’s face flushed.
“I’ll need to move now but you must go. You need to put the pieces together quickly.” The Sampan Man glanced at the window into the strong sun.
David grabbed the paper image and bowed his head respectfully to the Sampan Man. “Will I ever see you again?”
“I’m sure our paths will cross, when it’s meant to be.” The Sampan Man smiled.
David’s mind digested the Sampan Man’s stories. He couldn’t remember the drive back to the city. It was as if he had been in a trance. He knew he had to get to England and meet Beth.
* * * * *
Chapter 17: A Powerful and Dangerous Man
Haworth, West Yorkshire, England, Present day.
Beth looked to her left; she stared at the rows of seated men, each dressed in dark suits. They all wore a golden serpent shaped pin, attached to their left lapel. She stared at them but failed to see the features of their faces. It was then that she became acutely aware she was naked. She was dressed in blue heels, but nothing else. She was horribly embarrassed, yet the men did not seem to notice. She was mortified and tried to move her arms to cover herself. Her arms were heavy and unresponsive. She felt panic and embarrassment. Why couldn’t she do something as simple as move her arms to cover herself? She struggled, but it was of no use. Her arms remained limp at her side. She felt a rising panic but she struggled to rationalize why? It seemed the men were not paying any attention to her, despite her unclothed condition. A shrill sound caught her attention. It originated from an alabaster table to her right. An ornate phone, shaped like the phones she had seen in old movies, rang violently.
Beth snapped her eyes open and emerged from the foggy haze of her dream. The phone was ringing; it took her a moment to recognize the difference between dreamland and reality. She rolled across her bed and stuck out a hand. In a cat like move, she snatched the receiver and held it to her ear. “Hello?” she said in a particularly groggy voice.
“Hi. Is this Beth?” said a male voice.
“Yeah, who’s this?”
“It’s David Lee calling from Hong Kong. Sakura asked me to give you a call. I think I might be able to help you. I’m interested in coming over to England, to meet with you Beth.”
“Oh,” said Beth blowing away the cobwebs in her sleepy brain. “You’re that guy that Sakura said was interested in portals?”
“That’s me, and I really would like to meet with you, to hear your story. I’d also like to help you find your boyfriend. Are you open to that Beth?”
“Yes. How much is this going to cost me?” Beth could hear laughter in the background.
“I’m sorry; you caught me off guard with that one.” David was still laughing. “No, I’m not going to charge you a thing. I’m interested in portals and I’m interested in finding your boyfriend. In fact, I have some information about him already, but I’d rather talk with you in person.”
“You mean fly over here?” Beth was starting to wake up.
“Exactly, I insist. You won’t regret it. I need to tell you some important information and you need to know the truth.” David sounded serious.
“The truth, well there’s only two mistakes that one can make along the road to truth…” Beth left the sentence hanging.
“That’s right, not going all the way and not starting. I didn’t know that you’ve studied Buddha?”
“I just like quotes,” explained Beth.
David sounded serious again, “Beth, you seem like a nice person, I really need to visit you and explain a few things. Not over the phone. Some incredible things exist in our universe, things that others may not comprehend. I believe that you might be in danger and I need to explain in person. Can I come and visit you?”
“When are you thinking of coming over?”
“I would like to get the first flight. I need to explain to you what I’ve found.”
Beth was curious. “Okay David, I look forward to speaking with you in Yorkshire.” David explained that Sakura had provided him with a copy of the image of Matt. She had also forwarded her address. He vowed to be in Yorkshire as soon as he could.
* * * * *
Haworth, West Yorkshire, England, Present day.
It had been two days since their conversation and Beth was both curious and apprehensive. The doorbell pierced the crawling silence and startled Beth. She was closing in on deep sleep and had been fading in and out. Beth moved towards the window. She wanted to sneak a peek at her visitor. A slim tall man, with dark hair, waited patiently. Beth studied his light grey Lacoste rain jacket and blue Lacoste polo shirt. She moved her eyes down to his trim blue jeans and black Puma sneakers. He was elegantly decked out and clearly not from around this area. Beth could see the man’s tanned face. He was oriental and not what she expected. “David,” thought Beth. She couldn’t explain why but she slipped off Matt’s diamond ring and casually tossed it into a ceramic pot, high on the mantle.
Beth ran to the door, she opened it with a feeling of anticipation and curiosity. “Beth?” inquired David; with a warm smile he extended his hand.
“Yes,” said Beth catching his welcoming brown eyes for the first time.
“Thanks for seeing me, can I come in?”
“Oh sure, where are my manners,” stuttered Beth, trying to comprehend the strange attraction she felt towards this exotic stranger. “Please come on in, you’ve travelled so far.” David held a small gym bag as he entered the small cottage. He didn’t wait to be asked, he set the bag down and chose a seat in one of the armchairs. “Can I offer you water or tea perhaps?”
“No thanks. I came to talk. I have some information that will be important for you.” Beth closed the cottage door. She gave it a firm push, to ensure the lock had engaged. She walked towards the couch and sat facing David. Her eyes scanned his thin yet muscular frame. He was handsome and she felt the attraction. “Are you ready for this conversation Beth?”
“Yes. You haven’t flown all the way here for nothing.”
“Let’s start with the portal and Matt. Sakura has told me about Toshie and about the portal in Brussels. I’d like to hear the story from you. Start at the beginning and don’t leave anything out.”
Beth felt comfortable with David. He seemed genuinely interested and if Sakura trusted him, then she felt safe. An hour later, Beth continued with her amazing story. David had sat still with his eyes trained on Beth. A picture of supreme concentration, he had not asked a single question. Beth continued, “As I stepped upon the brass colored shell, I felt a burst of energy. Subra and Corom flooded through the portal, I sensed their energies. I knew that Toshie had passed away, I just knew. These experiences were very new to me. After a while, I remembered a strange energy shooting through me. I thought it was the portal but it didn’t feel right. I had fallen to the floor and I remember Matt was the first person I saw, offering me assistance to help me to my feet. Matt extended a hand and there was a crackle of energy. It was like a small static electric shock. I thought this was left over from the portal and maybe I was charged. Now I think differently.”
“What do you mean?” said David leaning in. Beth leaned in, mirroring David’s movements. As she moved, her hands pushed forward. She followed David’s eyes, as he noticed the Fox tattoo on the inside of her right wrist. She turned her wrist inwards slightly, in an effort to conceal the tattoo and continued.
“Well, now I think that feeling was something else. If the portal opened and two spirits passed through, was it open enough for one spirit to pass the other way? Could a spirit have passed through into me? Could it then have passed through to David? David’s handshake was electrically charged. Is it possible that a spirit passed through into him? I now think that’s what happened.”
“That’s interesting, I’ve never heard of spirits passing through into our world. It’s possible and from what I know, highly plausible.”
Beth studied David’s face, for signs that he was teasing her. “You believe me, don’t you?”
David stretched his legs out before looking at Beth and nodding his head, “Yes.”
“You said you had information?” Beth caught David with one of her piercing stares.
“I do. It’s my turn to talk and tell you what I know.” Beth sat quietly, her intensity growing. She had eagerly anticipated what David would tell her. “Sakura forwarded an image to me. When I saw the image of Matt, it tweaked my curiosity. I have so much to tell you but I’ll try to keep to what’s relevant for you and Matt. Let’s start with the hard news. I think you’ve been used. I don’t know why yet but I think Matt was trying to get close to you, to find out some information. Perhaps he was tracking your activities, in order to find the next portal. It was no coincidence that Matt was right there.” David paused and looked at Beth, “Right there, to help you onto your feet.
I’m a collector Beth. I’m fascinated with portals and their existence. I collect artifacts, texts and stories relating to this phenomenon. Over the years, I’ve come to realize, that I’m not the only one doing this. The same familiar faces turn up at these auctions, where artifacts are available. I’ve tracked one particular group, headed by a powerful individual. They seem to be very interested in the same type of artifact that I collect. I’m fascinated by the topic and collect artifacts because I’m interested. This other group has ulterior motives, which I suspect are sinister. How does this involve you? I’m quite sure that Matt hasn’t been totally honest with you. I know he graduated from Oxford University. He was part of a special group, headed by an influential student. This student was Matt’s best friend and university buddy. They graduated together and formed an allegiance. His buddy is the son of an influential businessman and multibillionaire.
This man is a powerful and dangerous man. I believe he is the head of a secret society. It’s a group dedicated to the pursuit of cracking one of times most enduring mysteries. I don’t need to convince you of the existence of portals. What if you could open a portal at will? Imagine if you could travel through it, to another world or another time? Einstein was trying to show this mathematically. It’s believed that certain artifacts, if combined, can unlock a portal and allow mortal beings to travel through.”
David looked at Beth. She raised her eyebrows, as if seeking acceptance. David knew she believed this to be true. She had experience with Subra, Corom and Toshie. “Tell me about these artifacts?” asked Beth, hardly able to contain herself.
“Sacred items from long ago. Very valuable items, which if combined, can open the portal and enable great powers. Back to Matt, if we can. The first thing I noticed, from the image sent to me, was the pendant around Matt’s neck. Did he wear this when he was around you?”
“Oh yes. That damn crystal thing. I had told him I didn’t like it. It looked old and dated. It was an odd thing for a guy to be wearing. He told me that it was sentimental. His Grandmother had given it to him.” Beth watched the reaction sweeping across David’s face. “And that was a lie, wasn’t it?”
David was nodding. “Yes. The Lemurian crystal hanging around David’s neck is a priceless artifact. It’s held by three gold sea serpents, supporting a rare and flawless crystal, of the highest quality. It belonged to the high priestess Cryanna. Here’s where it gets interesting. Crystals can be programmed by the mind. People can heal all kinds of ailments with crystals. Cryanna was a Master. She was very advanced. Legend says, she created a number of these special pendants, but this is the only one I’ve seen in existence. I think it’s authentic. The crystal is designed to provide temporary refuge for a spirit without a physical body.” David watched Beth’s reaction. She recoiled and placed her hands over her mouth. David made strong eye contact and nodded. “Yes. I think Matt provided a capability. A spirit did pass through the portal that you opened. That spirit could have passed through you and into the Lemurian crystal. What I don’t know is why? I also can’t prove, that Matt knew what he was doing.”
David paused and rubbed his cultured hands together. “Beth, I think he did know. I think he was using you. I know that’s a painful thing to comprehend. Why would a boy of Matt’s age be trusted with a priceless artifact such as a Lemurian Cryanna crystal? I have heard that this was acquired on the black market. A buyer named Ay acquired it. Buyers often use false names or handles, to disguise their identity. Ay was the name of a guard in ancient Egypt. His lover was killed and he used a group to revenge her death. He would find these powerful artifacts and gain access to the portal. This group was called, The Order of the Serpent, and they continue today. Matt’s university friend had a powerful Father. It’s the Father, who is the head of The Order of the Serpent. They’re a dangerous and powerful group. They’ve existed for thousands of years, avoiding exposure, coverage and press. The Father is rarely photographed and recruits carefully. It’s rumored that people who try to leave the group or have indiscretions, simply vanish. You don’t mess with this group.”
David sat back in his chair. “I think Matt is part of this group and I think he’s now being controlled by a spirit. I know that sounds crazy.”
“Go on, say more,” said Beth, hungry for additional details.
David accepted the encouragement. He felt comfortable, that his theory was not met with scornful ridicule. “I don’t know who this spirit is? I don’t know why they’ve decided to contact the spirit or how they’ve managed to get it here. Like you, I really suspect the portal. It’s no coincidence that Matt was there, just as the portal opened. We know he was there with an alternate motive but I can’t figure out why he stuck around. I don’t mean to offend you.” David noticed Beth’s raised eyebrows. “You’re a beautiful woman, but he needed something from you. You understand?”
Beth felt used and embarrassed. “Yes,” she managed to get out. She wondered if David was protecting her wounded heart or if he really did think she was beautiful?
David broke the awkward silence. “I’m sorry Beth; we’re going to have to figure out what Matt wanted. He obviously found the information he needed and took off.”
“Took off,” Beth repeated. She thought about the impact those words had on her. “What do you think he wanted from me?”
David knew Beth was upset and fragile. “I’m not sure Beth. These aren’t nice people. If I had to hazard a guess, I would say they’re trying to find information that leads them to the next portal. I simply don’t understand what they’re doing with the spirit and the crystal? I do know one thing. These guys are in this for all the wrong reasons.”
Beth shot David a look of concern. “So, I should just write Matt off?”
“I’m sorry Beth, I know it’s not romantic, but I would.”
David proceeded to inform Beth about his research and described his collecting activities, pertaining to portals. Beth spent time outlining her story. She completed details about her journey to the Shell in Brussels. She described the feeling she had and David hung on every word. The time flew and suddenly both realized that they were hungry. Consumed by their conversation, finally their bodies demanded food. Beth suggested a local restaurant and they settled in for a good meal. It was half way through their entre, that Beth realized she really liked David. She liked him a lot and she caught herself flirting mildly. He was easy to talk to and understood her experiences around energy, spirits and the portal.
“I want to ask you something,” said David, resting his fork on the side of his plate. His voice sounded serious, prompting Beth to raise her eyes to meet David’s gaze. “Did you see an image of the next portal, as the prophecy states?”
“Yes,” said Beth simply, before putting food into her mouth to delay any detailed response.
“More importantly, did you tell David what this image was?”
Beth smiled knowingly; she could ease his worried mind. “No. I didn’t describe to Matt the image that I saw. I didn’t even tell him that I’d seen an image. He never asked.”
“Good. That’s a relief. Then it’s clear to me that they’re using the spirit to guide them, to find the location of the next portal. Or they could be using the spirit to find the artifacts, that will open a portal.”
“Will they find it?”
“A journey is only as important as its outcome.”
“I don’t know that one, it’s an original. That’s your quote isn’t it?” said Beth, not recognizing the quote.
“If they find the portal and get their desired outcome,” David paused. “Well, it wouldn’t be good, let’s just leave it at that.”
David tilted his wrist; the light caught his Blancpain 1735 Grand Complication watch. It was getting late. We should talk some more tomorrow. I need a good night’s rest, the jet lag is starting to kick in.”
“Of course, I’m sorry. It’s just so nice to talk with someone who understands me. I feel like such a freak sometimes.” Beth realized that she had tilted her head, opened her eyes and brushed her hair off her face, using her fingers. She was openly flirting with David. Her cheeks flushed slightly. Her eyes fell to David’s hands. You can tell a lot about a man from his hands. He had the soft hands of a refined businessman. These hands were smooth, with lean fingers and manicured nails. David’s hands were more at home typing on a computer and writing with a Mont Blanc pen, than fixing a motorbike. He had handsome hands and she marveled at their simplicity.
David broke the silence, “Okay let’s go, I’ll be more awake in the morning, I’ll meet you for breakfast at say 8.30am?”
“Would you like to stay the night with me?” The words raced through her head as she hid her thoughts behind her smile. Her mind turned to her ring, still sitting at the bottom of a ceramic pot, perched upon her mantelpiece. They left the restaurant and David walked Beth to her door. By now he was looking pretty tired. The jet lag had really caught up with him.
“Perhaps, when I’m more alert, you can tell me the story behind this cute little thing?” David turned her wrist to expose her fox tattoo. Beth just nodded.
They bid each other goodnight and David disappeared into the shadows of the evening. Beth reflected upon their conversation. She’d just met David, but she knew there was an attraction. The question was, did he feel the same way? Beth couldn’t wait for the morning to come. Already she was planning her outfit and hairstyle with an air of anticipation. What would they talk about tomorrow?
Back safely within his hotel room, David assembled some materials relating to the sacred artifacts and the Servants of Byblos. He compiled a folder with materials and photos. He included profiles of Nesu Narmer and a few documents he had found describing the Order of the Serpent. Disturbing images swirled around his head as he finally drifted off to sleep.
He woke to feel the sun warming his olive skin. His arms and shoulders seemed larger and more muscular. He was lying on a bed made of reeds, when he suddenly realized he was not alone. He turned his head to look at the beautiful woman, lying next to him. She had a sheet draped over her hips with her naked back facing him. She rolled over onto her back exposing her chest adorned with a crystal necklace, hanging from her perfect neck. A gold serpent clasp wrapped itself around her upper arm. The jewelry sparkled in the strong morning sun. David looked around the room, trying to get his bearings. The air was warm and dry. He could hear faint voices. He was in the palace of the Nesu. His beautiful companion looked Egyptian, with her long black hair cut in bangs. Her face was silent and asleep. She had beautiful eyes, closed to the invading day and lined in a familiar black Egyptian style. Her upturned nose complemented her high cheekbones and perfectly formed mouth. He instantly recognized this beautiful woman. It was Beth, he was dreaming of being with Beth. David knew he was attracted to Beth, from the minute he first saw her. She was on the rebound and he felt uncomfortable making a move. His subconscious was reaffirming his strong interest.
As they had chatted, his interest had grown stronger. She was a strong, intelligent woman, independently wealthy and confident. He had caught her with her guard down, but had recognized a strong mind and a resilient character. She was both mentally and physically appealing. She was a welcome change from the companions he had cycled through in Hong Kong. He was looking forward to resuming their conversation over breakfast but fell asleep thinking about her. It had been a productive and enjoyable day for David. He felt important and needed. His journey was long and inconvenient, with other pressing business issues left unattended. He was particularly interested in Beth’s account of the portal.
You can read legends and collect artifacts all you want; it is no substitute for actual experience. Beth was living proof that this was not fanciful story telling, the portals did exist.
David would have traveled anywhere in the world to hear this first hand. He knew he had work left to do. For David this was a good start. What he didn’t know was the extent of other events unfolding that day. While he was introducing himself and educating Beth, dark forces were gathering. Matt and his colleagues also had a good day.
* * * * *
Chapter 18: Serpents and Hounds
Haworth, West Yorkshire, England, Present day.
Matt felt weird sharing his thoughts with a total stranger but he was surprised at how quickly he had adjusted. He knew his actions would force the Elders of the Order to recognize his commitment and elevate his status. To belong to the Order of the Serpent was an honor. If he could pull this task off he would be admitted to the inner circle. His destiny in life would be set allowing him to interact with the rich and powerful. Matt’s Oxford school friend had cautiously introduced him to the Order. He had entered willingly; he was not recruited. It was Matt who pestered and probed, wanting to be part of something larger and important. One night, a loose drunken remark had opened the doors to an intriguing secret society. For Matt to learn more and gain acceptance, he had to demonstrate his loyalty. He had carefully followed the instructions leading him to Brussels and to Beth. Matt was a good-looking lad and very intelligent. He felt bad misleading his parents. He needed them to provide a plausible cover. He felt worse deceiving Beth into thinking their relationship was genuine.
Over time, Matt started to enjoy Beth’s company and he began to develop feelings for her. It was impossible to fake what they had. His drive for power and acceptance overrode his growing feelings for Beth. He hated hurting her but soon realized she was strong and would get over him. He rationalized his actions. He was not physically hurting Beth, she was just collateral damage in a larger, more important plan.
He proceeded slowly. Eventually Beth talked about her past and her experience in Brussels. As time passed, the trapped spirit gained strength. He moved from his crystal housing into Matt’s mind. Matt’s fabricated story was effective, preventing Beth from removing his crystal necklace. She hated the necklace on him. It was dated and feminine looking.
One cold night, Beth had snuggled up close to Matt and fallen asleep. Her breathing became steady and deep. Matt was reading and his eyes grew tired. He stroked her soft hair, brushing it from her bare shoulders. She shuddered briefly and smacked her lips. Beth was dreaming.
“Go. Go now!” Her eyes darted, moving around wildly under her closed lids. She moaned, as if trying to form words. “Portal …. Energy …. Surge.” Beth’s spasms increased. Matt listened, not wanting to wake her. “Go through,” she said, with urgency in her voice. Beth seemed to relax, sinking back into Matt’s warm body. “Beautiful,” she murmured. Matt was about to reposition Beth and turn the lights out, when she said it. “An Angel, she’s beautiful, the image is an Angel.”
Matt smiled and his eyes narrowed. He had collected what he came for. The Elders in the inner circle of the Order would be pleased. He could now move to the important part of his assignment. Beth had unwittingly told Matt her vision. The vision she had seen, when she stepped on the Shell. This vision would point to the location of the next portal. Matt was pleased but spirit had other ideas. An uneasy alliance had formed between the Order and the spirit. It was an alliance built upon mutual interests, not upon trust.
* * * * *
Bamburgh Castle, Northumberland, England, Present day.
Eighteen months earlier, the wind swept fiercely across the crashing waves as they battered the steep black rock face. It was almost mid-night and the combination of mist, sea spray and a light rain, made visibility poor. Dr. Adler would rather have stayed in tonight and played with the kids. At this time of night, he would be snuggled up in bed, lying next to his much younger second wife. She was curvaceous and warm. Instead, he had reluctantly agreed to participate in a ritual, for the Order of the Serpent. He had become an Elder three years ago.
He parked his grey Aston Martin and walked towards the security guard. It wasn’t the first time Dr. Adler had visited Bamburgh Castle. The Castle was an impressive sight. It cast a daunting profile, high above the small market town. The rear of the Castle backed onto steep, jagged, stone cliffs. Located below was the swirling sea that battered the North East coast of England. This formidable cliff face blocked any thoughts of access. The Castle was impressive, a dark imposing building that cast a large silhouette against the night sky. Bamburgh Castle had featured prominently in many movies. Dr. Adler recalled a Dracula movie, starring Christopher Lee, as his favorite. It was an old movie and suddenly he felt old. He turned his collar up against the lashing rain and hurried into the reception area. Two large men were posted at the door. They looked like they would rather be inside, having a hot steaming cup of tea.
“Good evening Sir, welcome to Bamburgh Castle.”
The accent was clearly eastern European but the give away was the pronunciation. The large man pronounced the castle, “Bamberg Castle.” The Doctor smiled as thoughts ran through his mind. “Bamborough Castle would be correct.” Many words in English don’t sound the way they appear. This is what makes true English, one of the hardest languages to master.
The Doctor registered a slight smile, as he reached deep into his overcoat pocket, to retrieve a black invitation embossed with gold lettering. The invitation was simple, showing an address and a time. On the bottom of the invitation was an embossed name, “Dr. Thomas Adler.” At the center of the invitation was a distinctive emblem. It depicted a seated hound dog with a raised right front paw. A serpent was also shown below the dog. The serpent had its forked tongue protruding. This subtle, yet important marker was a sign. It signaled a meeting of the Elders and a meeting that should not be missed. The hound was the symbol of the British Chapter of Elders. The Order of the Serpent had grown, with a few select chapters internationally.
The Doctor handed the embossed card to the doorman. He glanced at it quickly. “Welcome Dr. Adler,” he said, with an even thicker accent. He moved his large frame with surprising ease. The warm welcoming light bled forth from the vestibule inside.
Dr. Adler advanced and was met by a smart attendant who checked his coat. The attendant behaved in the customary manner. He smiled ensuring he was polite and subservient. He showed Dr. Adler to the King’s hall. He swept a white-gloved hand in a circular motion. The invitation was for Dr. Adler to join the small group, assembled in the King’s hall.
The King’s hall was an impressive oblong shaped room. It had a wooden floor, with dark wood paneling, rising high upon the walls. Above the paneling, rose a solid stone wall decorated with gold frames. The wall contained old oil paintings of men in uniforms. The wooden panels housed recesses that displayed silver trays. The walls were decorated with ancient spears, axes and lances. Mounted within the wooden wall was an ornate clock. It was decorated in colors of blue and gold. It sported a white face with gold hands and a loud rhythmic ticking sound. At one end of the hall, three red-carpeted steps elevated the eye to a stone archway. Beyond, lay a roaring fireplace topped with a gold-framed painting. Faded tapestries hung precariously from the stone wall. The room was topped with an impressive hammer beam vaulted ceiling. Dr. Adler remembered a guide telling him that the original Lord Armstrong was a friend of the King of Siam. He immediately thought of Yul Brynner and Deborah Kerr in that famous movie. The ceiling was made from expensive teak, imported from Siam. Siam is called Thailand today and the King of Siam was said to have loved to work with wood. He helped carve some of the intricate designs, hidden within the roof.
At the other end of the King’s hall was a round window set high into the wall. The stained glass window was decorated with a six-pointed star. A circle of decorated glass lay within its center. The six-pointed star was long known as the mark of the beast. Staff had cleared the room and a small table with five chairs had been carefully arranged. Dr. Adler had been the last to arrive and was quickly shown to his seat. The table was round and he recognized the four occupants facing him. The attendants backed away, after lighting candles. They closed the doors to the King’s hall and sealed the occupants inside.
The man opposite Dr. Adler scowled. He reached outwards and with his palm facing downwards, extended his fingers. He displayed a ring, slipped upon the longest finger of his right hand. The ring was gold with an Onyx center. Embedded within the black Onyx was a gold design; it was a five-pointed star. Each of the men extended their hands, touching their fingertips. The inspection was complete; five identical rings validated their attendance.
Each man sat in silence. Dr. Adler felt tension in his chest, he was nervous. The men looked at a large black cloth covering the contents of the table. A man leaned forward and removed the cloth. He revealed a board with a strange serpent design. A seated hound was carved into the board, which appeared to be made from inlaid wood. Mother of pearl letters reflected the candlelight. They formed an arch across the top of the board. In the center of the board, lay a bone carving of a hound. It sat upon its haunches with one paw outstretched.
The outstretched paw acted as a pointer. An Elder leaned to one side and referred to a bound manuscript. He started to chant verses in an ancient language. As he continued, he swayed to the guttural noises spilling from his mouth. He closed his eyes and energy swept through his body and down his arm. Each man placed a finger upon the carved bone hound. The Elders pressed their fingers into the bone pointer. The energy pulsed through each person and the pointer seemed to elevate from the board. A strange purple glow leaked from beneath the pointer.
Over the next hour, a communication channel was opened with a sympathetic spirit. An accord was struck that would change the destiny of the Order of the Serpent forever. The spirit communicated through the board and an agreement was outlined. Instructions were imparted, involving a gateway to the spirit world and the promise of assistance. The spirit promised to help locate sacred artifacts. The spirit would help the Order but he needed to be released, like a genie in a bottle.
The spirit introduced himself as Paul Smith, a businessman who needed to strike a deal. He refused to use his spiritual name, Badra. He neglected to inform the group of his Gieging training. He knew the location of secret artifacts that, when used together, would open the access to the spirit world and great power. The Order of the Serpent had tried to locate these artifacts for thousands of years. Paul would help from beyond the grave, but he had his own agenda. He needed to attend to unfinished business. Paul had been selected for Gieging. He had been trained in the ancient art of spiritual separation. Gieging was a process that allowed a spirit to separate from the collective universe and manifest for a short time, in the physical world.
Paul, or Badra, was devastated to hear that his tutelage had ended. He had failed to progress through the training. He needed to get back to the physical world. He needed to correct the failings of his past. He knew of the crystals of Lemuria. These crystals could be programmed to physically house spirits and sustain their energy. Paul was fuelled by hate, disappointment and desire. He had lived for Claire and would do anything to win her heart. Paul had died, writhing from wretched pain, inflicted from severe burns. Paul needed to get back to the physical plane. He could track down the elusive Golden box and the Amulet. Securing these artifacts would give him access to the portal. This would provide a gateway back to the past and back to Claire.
These imbeciles would be easy to mislead, wrapped up in their own visions of power and grandeur. Paul would play them. When the time is right, he would teach them a lesson in life. He needed the Lemurian crystal. The crystal programmed by Cryanna, would provide him a safe refuge for a while. He instructed the group to purchase the relic and told them where they could find the artifact. A traveler had pawned the necklace to pay debts. The necklace lay undisturbed in a small antique store in Kuala Lumpur. For seven years, it was tucked away untouched within a box of junk. A sign was attached to this small box, it read, “Make me an offer.”
Paul described the necklace in detail. He provided exact instructions for locating the Malaysian store. He would not reveal the location of the portal artifacts until the necklace had been secured. He described the importance of finding the necklace. It was a necessary step in securing the artifacts the Order so desperately desired.
Matt was an eager foot soldier. He desperately sought acceptance into the Order. It appeared to be an exclusive, powerful world. Matt knew of the dark underbelly but its secretive nature, appealed to him. An introduction from his University roommate had exposed him to a world of potential.
Matt was delighted to be trusted with an important task, assigned by a powerful Elder. His task involved traveling to Waterford, in Eire, Southern Ireland. Waterford had been hit hard. The recent economic downturn had not been kind to the employment situation. Matt was whisked through Cork airport and before he knew it, was riding in a taxi through the emerald isle. He stared at the green fields, sheep and dry stone walls. The roads were narrow, but not busy. He indicated to the taxi driver that he didn’t want to talk. The taxi driver was not cooperative, asking Matt where he was from and why he was visiting Waterford? Matt tried to sound evasive but the driver was persistent.
Matt arrived in Waterford on time. It was a quaint place that had a village feel. Small cars zipped about and young Mothers stopped to chat, while pushing prams. It felt nice but he had to concentrate, he could not fail his first important mission for the Order.
“Well, we’re here mate. St. Saviours as requested,” the young man grinned and pointed to a black sign.
Matt reached for his wallet.
“It’s on account mate, including the tip. We aim to please in Waterford.” He pushed a small white card towards him. “Take this. It has my number on it. Just be sure to give me a call, when you’re ready to go back to the airport. I’m assuming you’ll be going back to Cork today?
Matt took the card, “Yeah, thanks.”
“Okay Sir, you’ll need to hop out as I’m blocking traffic.”
Matt opened the door and stepped out. He found himself standing on the stone pavement in front of the Church. The car sped away followed by a stream of small cars, each moving quickly. He turned his back to the road and looked at the black Church sign. “1876” was written in gold letters, contrasting against the glossy black sign. In larger gold colored letters, he could see the words, “St. Saviours.” Beneath was a patterned shield, in a black and white cross design. Below that were the words “Dominican Fathers,” the various mass times were also indicated.
Matt studied the exterior of the Church. The Church had an impressive façade with two figures carved in stone. They surrounded a centerpiece with an elaborate design. On the left, a statue of a man dressed in monk’s clothes, wearing sandals was standing proud. He held a bible in his left hand and a rosary could be seen dangling from his right hip. He held his right arm high but the statue was damaged. The man’s right hand was missing.
On the right, was a statue of a woman dressed in a Nun’s Habit. She was holding a heart shaped bottle in her left hand and clutched a cross in her right hand. The two statues flanked a square centerpiece, carved with intricate designs. Surrounding the centerpiece was a crown and a rosary with a cross. Matt strained his head backwards as he looked upwards.
“Wow,” he said audibly. Positioned in the center of the shield was a hound. Carved into the stone it looked odd, out of place. Surrounded by religious icons, it was clearly a seated hound with its right paw raised. It was there for all to see, but who would notice? Above the hound was a five-pointed star. This reminded him of the rings he had seen on the Elders. Who would know? On a busy high street in Waterford, the Church of St. Saviours displayed a hound with a raised paw. The Order of the Serpent had deep roots and this brought a smile to Matt’s face. If he did this right he would belong to a powerful secret society and he felt the rush of acceptance flow through him. He felt the power and the exhilaration.
Matt entered the Church, his heart pounding with excitement. “Don’t mess this up,” rang through his ears. It was early and Matt glanced at his watch. It was 10.35am and the Church appeared to be empty. The heavy wooden door closed behind Matt and the noise from the busy high street simply disappeared. Inside the Church a peaceful calm descended. The Church had high walls. Stone columns supported white arches with yellow accents. The Church was a nice refuge from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Matt’s heart continued to beat quickly. His head snapped to the left as he saw something move within the shadows. A man approached quickly and Matt was caught off guard.
“Can I help you young man?” A small man wearing dark clothes and carrying a walking cane approached.
Matt struggled to adjust his eyes to the dim light. “I’m looking for Father O’Reagan.”
“I think he’s in the back, let me see.” The thin man turned and wheeled away, eager to please.
Matt started to examine the Church and stopped to look at a beautifully carved confession box. He became aware of an approaching figure. Father O’Reagan appeared wearing jeans and a blue woolen sweater. “Father O’Reagan, how can I help you my son?” The Father smiled and offered a large hand to shake. Father O’Reagan was a local man, with a soft Irish lilt to his voice. He was a large framed man standing well over six foot tall with large muscular arms.
Matt managed to stutter out the phrase he had rehearsed. “Hello, I heard you could help me with my hound?”
The smile immediately dropped from the Father’s face. He quickly glanced to his left and right. Making sure the Church was empty, he grabbed Matt by the elbow and steered him into the alcove with the large wooden confession box.
“Who sent you?” snapped the Father.
“The Elders,” said Matt firmly.
“What do you want?” asked the Father, sizing up Matt.
“You know why I’m here; I want the necklace, the crystal.” Matt’s voice was steady and strong. He could sense the panic in the Father, which tilted the balance of power his way.
The Father stepped towards the confession box as he continued to grip Matt’s elbow. He opened the wooden door and shoved Matt towards the entrance. “Get in here and wait for me,” snapped the Father abruptly.
Matt made direct eye contact with the Father. He looked spooked and serious. “You’d better come back with the necklace or there will be consequences.”
“Sit, I will return.”
Matt closed the wooden door and looked around the small confined space. The wooden floor looked smooth and the kneeling pad was faded and worn. He could see a large square mesh in front of him that would separate the Father from the person making the confession. The wood was carved and neatly fitted together at the seams. The quality was old school. Matt waited a long time before he heard steps and the door beyond the screen open. The wooden structure shook as the Father took his seat. Matt could just see the shape of a figure through the carved mesh screen.
“I don’t like you coming to my place of work. I have two separate lives and this one is none of your business, the Elders should know better.”
Matt listened and was starting to get annoyed. “This Church has a five pointed star and a seated hound above the front door. All you need now is a neon sign!”
“I’m integrated into this community and I don’t want my work here compromised. Waterford is not the stronghold that it used to be. I had a strange oriental visitor here a week ago. He left me with a package that he said would be retrieved by the Elders. I opened it, because I was not going to run drugs or contraband. It was a necklace. Presumably the one you seek. Tell the Elders that I’m not a convenient drop off point.”
“Would you like me to tell the Elders that you’re not committed to the cause?” replied Matt in a low monotone voice.
“I don’t think anyone knows what the cause is anymore. Chasing ancient artifacts is not a priority for me, compared to my work here. This community needs me.”
Matt leaned into the screen. “This Church could meet an unfortunate accident, a fire perhaps? The types of people you’re messing about with are powerful and have long memories. I suggest you cooperate.”
The screen slid back quickly, making a screeching noise as the stained wood grabbed within the worn groove. A large hand pushed through the gap holding a green lacquered box. “Take it and be gone. I’ve done my part.”
Matt grabbed the box and stuffed it into his pocket. “It’s been a pleasure Father, I’m sure the Elders will be pleased. I didn’t realize that the Church was part of the Order of the Serpent but obviously we still have deep roots in these parts.”
“Not quite. Years ago many local businessmen were associated with the Order but across the river you’ll find the remains of a Templar stronghold. The Templar’s waged a war here and eradicated the Order. A local stone merchant belonged to the Order. He survived and helped build this Church. He was responsible for the symbolism. The Church was totally unaware. They were likely given alternate explanations of the symbols,” explained the Father.
“And you?”
“My Father was involved, when he passed he left me with this unwanted dubious connection. I was a man of the cloth before I was given this honor,” said the Father, his tone dripping in sarcasm.
Matt couldn’t resist, “Do I need to say a few Hail Mary’s?”
“I think it’s time for you to go young man, I’ll pray for you. I have a feeling you’ll need it.”
“Great. Thanks Father. I like to have powerful people in my corner.”
Matt pushed the wooden confession booth door and headed for the exit of the Church. His movement appeared calm but purposeful. He opened the heavy exterior door, exposing his senses to the barrage of light, noise and bustling activity. He walked quickly through the busy streets, entering an intersection of roads, shops and pubs. Matt’s immediate aim was to put some space between himself and the Church. He felt safer that way. He reached for his mobile phone and rang the number on the card. The taxi would be there in ten minutes and he would be on his way.
If customs bothered him he could explain the cheap necklace as a gift for his girlfriend. Matt smiled, he seemed smugly satisfied that he would please the Elders.
* * * * *
Chapter 19: The Four Arrows
Haworth, West Yorkshire, England, Present day.
Behind the hotel, the sun had managed to peek above the grass hill. For the time being David called this hotel home. It was nestled within the quaint Village of Haworth, West Yorkshire, England. David felt surprised. He was so far away from the busy energetic streets of Hong Kong, yet he felt relaxed and totally at home. He had tried to rationalize these feelings. Perhaps it was the friendly demeanor of the locals, spinning their stories of days gone by. Perhaps it was the old world charm of the beautiful Main Street. The little shops, steep hill and cobbled streets, were a welcome change from the busy trolley cars, bustling traffic, high-rise buildings and neon logos of Hong Kong. David could look across lush green fields and see grazing sheep. He could take a deep breath filling his lungs with clean fresh air. He marveled at the swaying trees and gurgling streams forging their way through the Worth Valley. It was truly a beautiful place with strong positive energy. It was charming and perfect for where David was in his life. This was all true, but if he were honest with himself, this was not the answer he was searching for. He had an overwhelming feeling that he should remain in Haworth for a while. He could not admit to himself, why. The answer was abundantly clear, Beth! It was a feeling coming from deep within and he had to acknowledge it. He was falling for Beth.
David’s room was exceptionally dark. The windows were covered with thick curtains, winning their battle to keep the daylight from encroaching. The sun was up and the warm rays descended upon the charming village. It brought heat to this chilly morning. A loud pinging noise broke the calm catching David’s attention. He had been dozing comfortably. He didn’t want to wake but he wasn’t deeply asleep either. The noise snapped his attention back to the day ahead. His focus switched to his Blackberry lying on the bedside table. His urge to find out who was contacting him was overwhelming. His connection to his phone and email pulled him back to his world in Hong Kong. He leaned over and fumbled for the light switch upon the wall. His fingers felt for the switch and the room was instantly flooded with light. A quick glance at the alarm clock confirmed the time was 6:25am.
He retrieved his Blackberry and opened his email. The illuminated display proudly announced a new email from “Sampan Man.” David smiled as he recalled his many rides in the Sampan boat. For a second he was sailing around Hong Kong’s Aberdeen harbor with his friend and mentor. His last meeting had been strained and he felt bad about the way it had ended. Sampan Man had reached out to him and hopefully he was okay. He clicked on the email opening the contents of the text. The attached email was short, containing instructions for him to go to Amsterdam immediately. An address was supplied but little else. David stared at the email. Could this be a trap? Did anyone else know about his clandestine meetings? Is this really the Sampan Man or a clever imposter? He knew one thing; this would drive him crazy, eating away at him with unanswered questions. He would have to go. The note urged him to go immediately. David did not want to leave Beth but he had this niggling feeling that he needed to go. The Sampan man would not risk contacting him if this was not vitally important. David could fully comprehend the speed at which things were changing. He sent Beth an email before stepping onto a plane destined for Amsterdam Airport Schiphol.
A few hours later and David was turning his head sharply as his eyes followed rows of bicycles and riders across a narrow street. He stretched his legs as he peered out from the tinted glass of the limousine. “The Amstel Hotel please; how far now driver?”
“Not far Sir, maybe a couple of streets, I think about four minutes.”
It wasn’t long before they were pulling into a narrow street. They stopped outside of the entrance to the Amstel Hotel. The doorman greeted David with the customary effectiveness of a five star hotel. David checked into his suite but was eager to find the address indicated in his brief email. He didn’t unpack his travel case he simply threw it upon the bed. Taking time to wash his face, he grabbed his room key and headed back to speak with the concierge. David travelled down to the lobby using a wooden clad elevator. It was very small and obviously old, not made for the traffic and luggage of modern day travelers. The elevator worked efficiently and David confidently strode towards the concierge desk.
A chirpy neat looking man in a uniform met David’s gaze. “Can I help you Sir?” said the man with a slight accent.
“I’m looking for a city map with enough detail that it will show the street names.”
“I have a pretty good map but it only shows the main streets. Which street are you looking for?”
David unlocked his Blackberry and opened his email. “I’m looking for a street called Reguliersgracht Centrum. He tilted his Blackberry so the concierge could see the correct spelling. Does that mean anything to you?”
“Sure. It’s not far from the hotel. Maybe a five or ten minute walk.” He swiveled the map so David could see it better. He quickly clicked his ballpoint pen and lowered it to the map. “The Hotel is here,” he said, drawing a circle on the map. “Reguliersgracht Centrum is here,” he tapped a street with his pen. He circled the street and asked, “What number?”
David wanted to keep the location a secret. “I’ll know it when I see it, thanks.” David smiled, grabbed the map and walked towards the main entrance to the hotel. He navigated his way across an intersection, avoiding the traffic and the steady stream of bicycles. He crossed a bridge under construction, spanning the Binnenamstel Canal. He walked along Sarphatistraat. He strode past a park sign that read, “Frederiks Plein.” David turned right. He was now on a street facing a Canal called “Reguliersgracht.” The concierge was correct, a quick glance at his watch confirmed that this journey had taken him about seven minutes. David now needed to find the address. He retrieved his Blackberry from his pocket but before he could scan his email for the exact address a movement caught his eye.
Two white Swans led the procession along the Canal with four light brown colored Signets following along. Two more adult Swans brought up the rear of the parade. Across the Canal was a partially sunken rowboat. A strong rope kept it afloat. Perched patiently on the edge of the rowboat was a Heron, focused on the fish within the Canal. His concentration broken by the parade of Swans, the Heron flicked his long beak in annoyance.
David unlocked his Blackberry to reveal the street number he was looking for, number 718. David walked for a while, until he reached his destination. He stared at the door and instantly knew his suspicions were unfounded. He relaxed knowing the Sampan Man had organized this meeting. The door was raised and protected by a wrought iron railing. It was a red brick building, fairly modern in its construction. A tall double door faced him with letter slots cut into the doors. They were painted in a black shiny gloss. To the right of the door was an intercom with three buttons. Above this was a white plaque displaying black numbers, “718.”
Above the doors was a framed piece of glass. In front of the glass pane was a design made from black wrought iron, in the shape of an eye. Emanating from each corner were four gold arrows. The points of each arrow met in the pupil of the eye. In an unconscious gesture David scratched his head to recall where he had seen this design before. A rush of blood flooded his brain as the image recalled instantly. He could now see it in his mind’s eye, the Sampan Man’s apartment in Hong Kong. It hung above the fireplace. Was this a sign for David? No, the design looked like it had been part of this building for a long time. Everything looked weathered and appropriately aged. David cautiously walked towards the door. He pressed the intercom button listening to the shrill buzzing noise.
The speaker vibrated with a voice from inside. “Yes?”
A plain inquiry was presented to David. It was in keeping with the anonymity that the building’s façade offered. David didn’t know what to say but then it came to him. “Hello. I’m here to inquire about a Sampan ride around the canals of Amsterdam.”
For a few seconds there was silence and David’s heart raced. He waited but there was no response. After what seemed an age, a shrill buzzing noise could be heard. It was followed by a click that drew David’s attention to the heavy door. The door had opened slightly. David took this as a sign to enter. He pushed open the door and walked into a partitioned hallway. As the door swung closed behind him he surveyed his surroundings. He advanced into a long corridor with doors either side. At its end was a set of wooden stairs. The floor was made from strips of wood. It was rustic and had a warehouse feel to it. The floor looked older than the modern exterior of the building. The walls were bare and plain. The atmosphere in this white washed hallway was cold and sterile.
David could hear steps as they approached from the stairs. He remained stationary, his gaze focused upon the stairs. A young woman appeared, dressed in tight blue denim jeans. She wore black-heeled boots that just covered her ankles. The heels made a noise on the unwelcoming wooden steps. As she approached David could see she wore a blue woolen sweater that hugged her slender form. She had a pretty fresh face and shoulder length blonde hair. She continued to walk towards David. Her head remained perfectly still as her hips swayed rhythmically with the clicking of her heels. David was transfixed. When she approached, he realized how tall she was. She had piercing green eyes and her sullen face broke into the most dazzling smile.
“Looking for a Sampan ride?” she repeated with the slight twinge of a Dutch accent.
“Yes,” was all David could muster.
“You’re David right?” She stopped walking and rested her hand on her rounded hip.
“Right,” choked David.
“The strong and silent type,” she joked. “I’m Aardina; you’d better follow me and come inside.” Aardina turned and started to walk down the hallway.
David’s legs didn’t respond immediately but he soon engaged his brain and his foot lunged forward, as if by instinct. Before he knew it, he was following Aardina towards the stairs. She stopped at the bottom, turned and smiled. Pressing her mouth to his ear she whispered, “You first.”
David lifted his right leg and began the ascent, provided by the old wooden stairs. After a couple of flights, he turned to see Aardina following and urging him onwards. “Next door to your right,” she said. David approached the door. Aardina seemed to step in front of him. She held a large metal key and inserted it into the keyhole of the lock. David couldn’t recall the last time he had seen something that old incorporated into a door. His building in Hong Kong had a plastic card key access with advanced biometrics.
Aardina pulled the key from the door and turned the brass knob. She pushed the door firmly. She looked at David, gesturing that he should enter first. She was acting in an odd way and he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. He was suspicious and remained alert and untrusting. When he stepped through the door his suspicions were stripped away instantly. He dropped his guard immediately. He walked into a small square room with a large window overlooking the Canal. Light streamed into the small room, casting shadows on the freshly painted beige walls. A roaring fire crackled deep within a stone mantelpiece. The walls had paintings of Canals, spires, boats with flowers and beautiful bridges. The old wooden floor supported the finest Turkish carpet, splashing color and warmth into the room. David recognized the silk Hereke carpet and knew instantly this room belonged to someone important.
A French gold encased Frederic Berthoud mantel clock captured the seconds with its hypnotic ticking. The room was tastefully decorated in the European style. David tried to take in all of the interesting antiques but his gaze was drawn to the Sampan Man, perched upon a French carved leaf sofa.
“The truth is rarely pure and never simple,” said the Sampan Man smiling.
“Oscar Wilde, the Importance of Being Earnest. That’s what you said to me, the last time we met. I see you haven’t lost your taste for the finer things in life,” said David nodding at the expensive items adorning the room. David noticed the Sampan Man nod at Aardina. David turned to look at Aardina but he only saw her back, as she left the room locking the door behind her.
As she left the room, the Sampan Man looked at her in a lecherous way; “Indeed, the finer things in life,” was all he said.
“Who is she?” inquired David.
“This is a safe house. She’s the daughter of the local Derwyddon.” The Sampan Man watched David intently. He knew that term would be new to David. He wanted to know if David would ask for clarification or try to bluff his way through.
“Look, you told me to get here quickly and now you start to use words that I simply don’t understand. Are you going to tell me why I’m here and what’s so important?”
“Yes, I owe you that. Please sit,” the Sampan Man motioned for David to sit in an elaborately carved chair, near the fire.
David looked at the Sampan Man expectantly. “I’ll sit, but before I do, I need some immediate answers. Why the locked door, when you said this was a safe house? What are you hiding from? What’s so important that you drag me away from my quest? One final thing, where are we exactly? This is expensive real estate and the four arrows above the entrance, have not escaped my notice. You have some explaining to do and now it’s time to come clean. I don’t want fancy words or mystic legends this time.” Feeling as though he’d made his point, David sat in the chair frustrated.
The Sampan Man smiled and rose from the couch. He walked over to a table and picked up a large flask. He gently poured steaming hot water into two tumblers. “You have to try this. It’s a Dutch thing, but it’s mighty civilized.” He picked up a silver container with a small spout. He poured pure honey onto a silver spoon and stirred it into each tumbler. The tumblers contained fresh mint leaves, still attached to the stalks. David could now smell the pleasant aroma filling the room. He offered one of the tumblers to David, “Here sip on this and I’ll explain everything. Careful, it’s really hot.”
David tapped his fingers on the tumbler, trying to provide relief as the heat seeped through into his flesh. The Sampan Man settled onto the couch and waited for the steaming liquid to cool. “Kieran Dwyer is a dangerous man. He has access to unlimited resources, but that’s not all. What makes him dangerous is that he’s now got access to information. This information has been kept secret for thousands of years. I’m convinced he’s now getting guidance from the spirit world. It sounds far fetched, but he has Cryanna’s crystal and I know what he’s using it for. I’m going to lay it out for you but recognize you’re in danger. The Servants of Byblos have been protecting two sacred artifacts since time began. Okay, I love to exaggerate for the sake of a good story.” He paused and sipped hot mint flavored tea from his tumbler.
“The Order has existed for thousands of years and has counted upon numerous loyal servants. The Dagger that Kieran bought in the auction was the proof. Proof he needed for the existence of a Golden box. This box is made from the purest gold and I suspect he now knows what it looks like. It has special powers and combined with an ancient Amulet, it can open a portal to other worlds. The famed Amulet is made from sacred wood and holds a mystical power. When you insert the Amulet into the Golden box, the portal will open and unlimited power is granted. I’m talking about ancient power, dark powers from the oldest gods. This secret has been kept by the Servants of Byblos throughout the ages.”
“Do the Servants of Byblos have the artifacts?”
The Sampan Man thought before he answered. “It’s why we were formed. We’re sworn to protect them. The Servants of Byblos have evolved through countless iterations. For protection, we have changed our name over the years and have infiltrated other secret societies. We have chapters in the Orient, North America and Europe. The Servants of Byblos are an ancient Egyptian order but the reason we were formed, is still valid today. Are you familiar with the Druidic Order?”
“What do you think?”
“The Druidic Order is closely aligned with the Bacchic and Eleusinian Mysteries of Greece or the Egyptian rites of Osiris.” The Sampan Man looked over at David.
David pulled a face and sipped on his mint tea. “I have no idea what you just said.”
“Okay, fair enough. There are three divisions in the Druidic Order and I belong to the third division. I’m a Druid or a Derwyddon. I’ve progressed through six successive degrees of the Druidic Order. I’ve gained wisdom and knowledge beyond most people’s comprehension. I’m one of only three Arch Druids on the planet. David, I’m a big wig in the Druid world.” The Sampan Man smiled and sipped his tea. “I know where the guardians of the sacred artifacts are hidden. It’s my job to protect them. I’m worried David. Kieran has knowledge. He knows where the guardians are located and he will track them down. The Druid organization is just a cover for the Servants of Byblos. I’m serious when I say these artifacts can not fall into the wrong hands.”
“Why am I here Arch Druid Sampan?”
“Cute. But it’s no joking matter. The four arrows and the eye are a symbol of the secret Druid society. The eye goes back to our Egyptian roots and is unique to the third division. This division is responsible for protecting the sacred artifacts. The Egyptian artifacts are the most dangerous. The Druids have a powerful ceremony referred to as, ‘Calling the Four Corners.’ This means engaging the four corners; Earth, Fire, Air and Water. The four arrows represent the sacred calling ceremony that the third division is responsible for. It’s all fascinating stuff but I need you to help me David. Kieran and the Order of the Serpent have identified me. They’re trying to track me down. Plainly stated, I’m on the run. Aardina is the daughter of an Arch Druid.”
“You’re serious aren’t you?”
“Yes. David, do you get this? You’re getting mixed up with some very driven and very dangerous people. For hundreds of years men have had secret societies and lodges. Many times it’s just an excuse to get away from their spouses and dress in funny hats to feel important. Occasionally in the higher orders of secrecy, these groups are more sinister. They’re chartered to keep ancient secrets and protect dangerous knowledge, not meant for the masses. Someone tried to kill Aardina’s Father last week.” The Sampan Man stopped and calmly sipped his mint tea, while letting the gravity of his statement sink in. He lifted his eyes above the steaming rim of his tumbler.
David met his stare through the rising steam, “The Order of the Serpent?”
“Yes.”
“Does Aardina know?”
“No, she thinks he’s away on business. She knows he’s in danger and I’m posing as an old family friend. He’s fled to a safe house in Cologne. I need you to go to Cologne and meet with the Arch Druid. He has the Amulet of Byblos. We can’t risk it being discovered and we can’t let it slip into the wrong hands.”
“What do you want me to do with it?”
“I want you to get the Amulet. The Arch Druid will tell you what to do next but you must go and meet with him. I’m in danger and I’m going underground for a while. Did you meet with your young lady in England?”
“I did.”
“Did you find the young man with the crystal?”
David looked downwards admiring the expensive Turkish carpet, “No, not yet.”
“If I know how these people operate, I would say she’s in serious danger. They’ll try to get to her. They want to find out more about her portal experience.”
David stared at the window, “Her man was a plant. He used her for that purpose already.”
The Sampan Man coughed, “I know but they’ll be back.”
“Why?”
“The crystal probably contains a spirit, guiding the young man. The spirit is trying to locate the artifacts. They will want to collect as much information as they can. I don’t know why but the spirit seems to have knowledge of the artifacts and the guardians. If they get the Amulet and the Golden box, then the balance of power will shift. You’ll need to get the Amulet and the girl to a safe place. Get them somewhere where they won’t be found. Can you do that?”
David averted his gaze, “Yes, they won’t be looking for me.”
“Go now. I don’t know when we’ll meet again but I wish you well. Take the train to Cologne tomorrow morning and I’ll email you instructions. It’s a couple of hours ride. I’ll mention two dogs, that way you’ll know my emails are authentic.”
The Sampan Man leaned over and pressed a button hidden in the arm of the couch. As David rose to leave, a key turned and Aardina propped the door ajar. She smiled at David and lowered her pretty eyes. “Thanks,” he said stepping through the door. David turned, “Thanks Sampan Man, I look forward to our next boat ride.”
“Me too,” he said sipping from his steaming tumbler.
It was an uneasy night for David. He didn’t sleep well. He debated if he should send Beth an email warning her of imminent danger. What if he was wrong and he just spooked her? How could he be sure? He couldn’t give his location away that easily. David kept checking his email, getting excited every time his device indicated receipt of a new message. Eventually he fell asleep without the email he was waiting for.
It was a cool morning when David stepped into the cab outside of the Hotel Amstel. He endured the ten-minute cab ride to the station in silence. He was lost within his thoughts and cared little if he appeared rude. He boarded an ICE train, on platform 4B of Amsterdam’s Central Train Station. He caught the 8.04am train bound for Cologne. He found a quiet seat to rest his head. Unaware of what lay ahead, he knew Cologne was only a few hours away. The train was due in Cologne at 10.45am and he would await instructions from the Sampan Man. The train’s rhythmic rocking had him asleep in no time.
“Excuse me,” said a uniformed man, gently shaking David’s arm. “Tickets?”
David shook his head to clear his foggy mind. “Oh yes.” He reached into his coat and retrieved the ticket. He handed it to the official.
“Thank you,” said the man stamping the ticket and returning it.
David looked around and noticed the train had filled. It had progressed through several stops on its journey. He glanced at his watch 9.15am. He was surprised at how long he had drifted off for. He looked at his Blackberry and noticed three new messages. Two seemed to be welcome messages, acknowledging his crossing of mobile carrier zones. One was from Sampan Man. David clicked on the message, it read.
Dear Uncle Fred,
It’s so nice to hear that you will be coming to visit us in Cologne. Uncle Berty is really looking forward to seeing you but unfortunately he must work. He is willing to say a quick hello to you on his way to work. When your train gets in at 10.45am you need to follow the visitor’s signs and head for the visitor’s center. This will exit you from the station and you will be standing in front of the famous Cologne Cathedral. Uncle Berty will meet you inside the Cathedral. Walk around the inside until you come across the sarcophagus of a famous Knight. You will see a plaque on the floor at the feet of the Knight. It will read “Gottfried IV Graf Von Arnsberg – 21. Februar 1371.” The Knight is lying on his back with two of his trusty hound dogs guarding his feet. The Knight is protected by a metal wire case. Uncle Berty will meet you at the Knight’s plaque. Just stand there and wait for him. Hold your Blackberry in your right hand. After you’ve said hello to Berty we look forward to you visiting our home.
“Clever,” thought David. It contains enough misinformation to confuse. It contains just enough information to schedule the meet with a reference to the two hound dogs, to make it authentic. The rocking of the train soon lulled David to sleep again, with the announcer waking him just before the train pulled into Cologne.
* * * * *
Chapter 20: The Three Wise Men
Cologne, Germany, Present day.
David leapt from the train with a heightened sense of excitement. As he landed on the platform of Cologne Train Station, he took a quick glance over his shoulder. He smiled to himself, realizing the absurdity of his situation. He looked at the tourists, businessmen and families, leaving the train. He studied them with a keen sense of scrutiny. One of these people could be in disguise, trying to blend into the surroundings. They would represent the secret society of the Order of the Serpent. In reality, David would be tailed to uncover the whereabouts of the Amulet of Byblos. It sounded exciting.
David felt like Jack Ryan, a character from a Tom Clancy novel. He pictured himself as the spy, skulking around on secret business. Then his smile disappeared as he recalled the Sampan Man’s words. This was serious and he was skirting the attention of some dangerous motivated people. They had tried to kill Aardina’s Father, so why wouldn’t they kill him?
David was wearing a light blue rain jacket. He pulled the collar close to his chin and realized the cold deserved a thicker coat. He hustled along the platform to a staircase leading down into a concourse. It was well lit and contained numerous shops. He marveled at how clean it was, supporting a bustling underground hive of activity. Below the station tracks was a mall, full of shops and eateries. People browsed and drank coffee. They passed the time until their train sped them to their destinations.
It was warmer underground and David was swept along with the industrious crowd. A sign caught his eye, protruding from the low roof of a tunnel. “Visitor Information,” it read, like a beacon in a sea of distractions. People wheeled luggage and hugged hello and goodbye. David heard many languages but he seemed to stand out. There were few Oriental faces in the crowd. He proceeded towards the visitor information as the note had indicated. It directed him out of the station towards a high wall of glass and ultimately an exit.
Leaving the station, David walked into the chilly mid morning air of Cologne. He was in a square of sorts. It was a well-designed landing area for the crowds of people that enter or leave the station. To his immediate left rose a majestic dark colored building that had to be the Cathedral. Its stark dark color contrasted with the cloudy sky, framing the ornate shapes of its silhouette. David studied the Cathedral. He was rooted to his spot amazed at the sight before him. The structure rose majestically, supporting numerous spires. Ornate details hid within the stonework. He could see statues of religious figures. Numerous gargoyles were clinging to the edge of the building, their faces contorted in pleasure or pain. Mystical animals comprised of half griffon and half bird provided magical waterspouts. Today was overcast but at least it was dry. David could have spent hours studying the building and photographing the architectural details. He loved the old buildings and the creativity and energy surrounding them. He had often laughed at people visiting Hong Kong, as they photographed the walls of glass and iron. Hong Kong has some really neat skyscrapers but compared to this, why waste the digital storage? “I suppose it’s what you’re used to,” he said under his breath.
He needed to get inside and meet his contact. David picked up the pace and headed for the entrance to the Cathedral. After navigating a small lineup he was relieved to find out there was no entrance fee. He didn’t have many Euros in his wallet and he didn’t want to leave a credit card trail. Any spy worth their salt knows that trick. Use cash wherever possible. He walked into the Cathedral and was immediately assaulted by the large vaulted roof, challenging his senses and making him feel small and insignificant. He stared at the engineering feat and quickly snapped himself back into the moment. “Focus,” he thought.
David began a systematic sweep of the Cathedral looking for the Knight and the plaque. He started along the left side of the Cathedral and noticed numerous close calls. Several Knights could be seen but not surrounded by a metal cage and certainly no plaques. He noticed a heavily secured area at the front of the Cathedral sporting a large gold chest. No one was allowed to access this area and the chest was elevated and protected. Once he was closer he could see the chest had three sections. It was perched on top of a strong stilted platform, elevated at about six feet high. The gold box was encased behind Perspex glass. It was sealed with a lid that sported rows of bright lights, illuminating the chest. It was ornately decorated with figures and scenes cast from pure gold. The shape of the chest was interesting. It had two clear sections on the bottom, each with a vaulted roof. Perched on top was a third section. It spanned the gap between the two lower structures. It gave the appearance of a triangular shaped chest.
David walked past the chest and started down the right hand side of the Cathedral. “What if I miss the Knight?” he thought. David started to scrutinize every little detail, trying to match what he saw with the description in the email. He passed a stone-carved figure lying on top of a sarcophagus. He could not see any dogs or a metal cage encasement. Was this a set-up? Perhaps he was being framed after all?
David continued his path, passing a white figure lying on his back under a plaque with a skull. As he moved onwards a metal cage to his right caught his eye. This looked promising. He could see a figure surrounded by a metal cage. What surprised him was the thickness of the iron bars protecting the figure within. The stone looked yellow in the dull light. At the foot of the sarcophagus was a metal plaque set into the stone floor. The plaque had two shields. To the left was a cross. To the right was an eagle. In the center of the shields were the words, “Gottfried IV Graf Von Arnsberg, 21. Februar 1371.” His attention was immediately drawn to the details within the plaque. This was the right plaque including the missing “Y” on February. “Perhaps this was the old German spelling?” he mused.
Raising his eyes, he peered deep within the iron bars. He noticed a reclining figure, dressed like a Knight in full armor. What set his heart racing were the Knights boots. They were resting peacefully upon two hound dogs. The attentive hounds were carved from the same yellowish stone. David studied the Knight’s head, covered by a smooth domed helmet. His throat and neck were protected by chain mail, its intricate pattern carved into the stone. He reached into his jeans and held his Blackberry in his right hand, as instructed.
David sensed a presence over his right shoulder. “What part of Gottfried interests you?” David was surprised and whirled around to see an attractive woman smiling at him. She was dressed warmly in boots, jeans and a long black padded coat. Her striped scarf was red and white and looked like a football scarf. David was expecting a man and this could blow his rendezvous.
“Oh, I’m just looking,” said David coldly, turning his attention back to the figure. David knew that students are often employed to inform visitors of the various historical facts. It’s a chance for them to earn a little money and practice their English. She would get the hint soon and move on.
“Gottfried has an interesting history, he reclaimed the local lands around here and was very popular,” she continued. “What most people don’t know about Gottfried is his involvement with the Servants of Byblos.” She let the sentence hang to register with David. Her voice was soothing. She had perfect pronunciation but if you listened carefully, you could detect a slight accent.
David turned to study the face of the young woman. She had flawless skin and beautiful green eyes. Was she his contact or perhaps he had been deceived? “What’s your favorite part of the sculpture?” inquired David.
“The two hounds. Even in death, they would not leave their master’s feet. It is said that he loved his dogs. Gottfried saved the Servants of Byblos from extinction. He was responsible for integrating them into the Druidic Order. He was credited with finding the lost Golden box. He assumed the mantle of Soul Collector and became the guardian of the Golden box.” It finally dawned on David. He turned to look at the magnificent Golden box, encased in security grade Perspex, elevated at the front of the Church. The young woman caught his glance. “No, not that box, it’s far too large. That’s an important relic; it’s the shrine to the three Kings. It is said to hold the remains of the three wise men. It was opened in 1864 and the records showed that it did indeed contain bones and 2,000 year old clothing.” She spoke in words that ran together like the smooth pouring of honey. Most men would just watch her lips and perhaps not hear the words. She was so fresh faced and naturally pretty.
David couldn’t stand it anymore. He decided he wouldn’t make a good spy. “So are you friend or foe? I was expecting a man?”
She smiled and linked her arm through his. “Let’s go before we get noticed shall we?”
David did not resist, how could he? “Who are you?”
“My name’s Saar, S-A-A-R,” she said, spelling out the letters.
“Who do you represent?” David stopped walking. He knew that he was safer inside the crowded Cathedral.
“Relax David. I’m Aardina’s kid sister and you’re here to meet my Father. He’s waiting in the coffee shop around the corner. It’s not so safe here and I wanted to make sure you weren’t tailed.”
“Was I?”
“No. I’ve been following you since the station and no one’s paid any attention to you. Come on, we’re late and my Father’s not a patient man.”
David could now recognize the same green eyes and fresh features that he saw in Aardina, he knew she was telling the truth. David followed Saar from the Cathedral and into the busy streets. He lost his sense of direction as he concentrated on a story she told of the three Kings. “I was interested in how such a precious object would end up in a German Cathedral? So I researched it.” She continued her explanation as she skipped across a narrow street and darted into another. David followed dutifully. “In 1164, Archbishop Rainald simply asked for them. Frederick Barbarossa was the Holy Roman Emperor at the time. He had acquired the relics as spoils of war from a particularly brutal campaign, waged in Northern Italy. He worried about a political uprising and was happy to donate the relics of the Magi in the hopes that it would secure the loyalty and support of a powerful man. I just love history don’t you?” she said, looking back over her shoulder. Her beaming smile complemented the sparkle in her eyes.
“Is there more?” inquired David.
“That’s the thing about history, there’s always more. In approximately 1199 King Otto gifted three golden crowns to the Church of Cologne. They were made exclusively for the three Magi. They were known as the King of Kings.” Saar stopped abruptly at a store window. She looked at David and pointed inside to a Tee Shirt hanging on a mannequin. The shirt had a design with the city’s coat of arms. “See there,” she said pointing. “Even today on the Cologne coat of arms, it still shows the three golden crowns of the Magi.”
Set against a red banner, at the top of the shield, David could see the outlined design of three golden crowns. Before he could acknowledge the observation Saar had turned and was bounding away. David followed, “Not far now,” she said with normal breath. David was panting a little. They walked through a busy street and without warning Saar was entering into a small coffee shop. It was long and narrow inside. At the far end of the store was a counter where they served the customers. Down the left hand side were tables with people sipping, reading and chatting. Saar walked past the people and approached the short lineup at the counter. David followed, as if being drawn along by some invisible cord. He stopped behind her and she turned to look at him. “What are you having?”
“Black coffee please,” said David.
Saar ordered two coffees and proceeded to the cash register, where she paid. The steaming cups arrived quickly and Saar handed David a cup. She flicked her head in a gesture for David to follow. She walked past a couple of tables before stopping. She looked at the open chair. It was a table for two with the other chair occupied by a man reading a newspaper. He was sipping from his steaming cup of tea. “Sit,” barked Saar.
David sat without asking and was surprised to see Saar walk away. The man folded his newspaper, placing it on the small table. He glanced at David. He was a distinguished looking man with dark hair and grey temples. He looked calm and in control with piercing green eyes. “Who sent you my friend?”
David answered before he thought and was annoyed at himself for doing so, “The Sampan Man.”
“Well then, we should talk. I don’t have much time with you today and I have a lot to tell you. A week ago, someone tried to murder me and now I must go into hiding. They’re looking for an Amulet. They must never find it. They call me the Keeper do you know why?”
David took a sip of his coffee. “The Amulet is made from the sacred sweet smelling wood. It’s from the legend of Osiris, one of the most ancient of Gods. It has healing powers and is a key to another world, when combined with the Golden box. You’re one of the guardians, one of the Servants of Byblos.”
“Shhhhh,” said the man putting a finger to his lips. “Not so loud. Yes, you seem to know the story. Sampan Man has briefed you well.” The man’s eyes darted from left to right, surveying the surroundings. “We’ve used many associations over the centuries. They’ve helped us to disguise the Servants. The Druidic Order is one of the enduring ones. We have three Arch Druids living today. We’ve all progressed through many levels of wisdom and training and have specific responsibilities. Sampan Man is the Soul Collector. He has wisdom and access to knowledge far beyond a normal person’s comprehension. Two years ago, he was traced and identified as the Soul Collector. The Order of the Serpent tried to kidnap him while on a business trip to London. It became obvious to us that someone had inside knowledge of our organization. We could not continue to have the Arch Druids protect the sacred artifacts. It was too dangerous. We needed to place them with trusted consorts. Until recently, The Order of the Serpent thought we had both the Golden box and the Amulet”
David interrupted, much to the annoyance of the Keeper. “So Sampan Man doesn’t have the Golden box?”
“No. He said he was close to finding it. The very tenants that held our organization together had been compromised. We always knew where the other two Arch Druids were. As it got more dangerous we were aware that our roles had been exposed and our locations were becoming known. We have to bestow the Amulet to a trusted aide. It’s getting too dangerous and too obvious for us to keep it safe.”
David placed his cup of coffee onto the table and leaned in. “So it must have been an inside job? The third Arch Druid sold out, yes?”
“No. Sampan Man was identified first and moved from Kuala Lumpur to Hong Kong. He lay low until recently, when he recognized activity that led him to believe that he had been compromised. He moved quickly and is now working on disappearing to a location where he won’t be found. The trail of clues for the Golden box had long since gone cold, it is presumably still lost. Only the Sampan Man knows where the box may be. I have the Amulet and I need to get rid of it. Until recently, I was safely tucked away in my home in Amsterdam. Now I’m on the run, my family is in danger and I need to find a new home. The difference in my situation is clear. I haven’t found anyone that I can give the Amulet to.”
David raised his eyes slowly from his coffee cup. Their eyes met expectantly and he knew what was coming next. “Me? You want me to have this responsibility? The Knight, what was his name Gottfried? Your daughter told me he’d found the Golden box, so I suppose it was lost again? How do you lose something that precious? What about this third Arch Druid? It sounds as if that’s the person who double crossed you.”
“You have so many questions. The third Arch Druid has special powers aligned with her advancement through the Druidic Order.”
“Her?”
“Let me continue. I have to trust you with this information but we’ve moved her to safety already. There’s a place, a few hours drive from Delhi in India, called Jaipur. A little girl was born in Jaipur and it wasn’t long before she started to talk to her parents about the Druids. This would be an odd conversation for a small Indian girl to have. Her parents were religious practicing Hindu’s. The little girl grew into a teenager and eventually felt confident to confide in her Mother. Her Father was strict and would not be tolerant of fanciful tales. The young woman told of clear recollections of her past lives. In one life, she was a servant in the City Palace in Jaipur. Her duties were to attend to the Maharaja’s many wives and concubines. Maharaja Sawai Pratap Singh was a kind man; one day he asked his many wives if they were happy? They said they were but they missed the outside world. They cautiously explained their feelings to their husband. They were grateful for all the comforts that the palace provided but it was a form of confinement. They had started to feel like inmates in a prison, even if it was a luxurious prison. In India, in the late 1700’s, royal women were kept safe. They were hidden away, observing the strict purdah, away from the dangers that the city offered. The Maharaja thought long and hard about his wives’ honesty.
He set his plan in motion. He would delight his wives and leave an indelible mark on the city of Jaipur forever. Construction began on a secret tunnel from the City Palace to a new location, several blocks away. In 1799, the Maharaja had built a high walled five-story square building on the busiest intersection that he could find. It was adjacent to a market and the road that connected Jaipur with Delhi. He spoke with engineer and designer Lal Chand Usta and asked him to incorporate unusual design features into this special building. The building was constructed in the shape of the crown of Krishna, a powerful Hindu God. Lal used the local building material of pink sandstone commonly found in Jaipur. The British referred to Jaipur as the pink city because of this unusual material.
The completed building provided a connection to the palace via a secret tunnel. Hawa Mahal or the Palace of the Winds provided a spectacular surprise for the women of the palace harem. The secret tunnel led from the City Palace Zenana or women’s quarters, to the Palace of the Winds. Women could move freely and safely between the two structures. The building had steep walls specially constructed to lean inwards. These walls were peppered with 953 small windows called Jharokhas. Some had ledges on the inside for the women to sit and peer through the windows. Because of the angled wall, a person at street level could not see into a window high above. The windows were covered with painted lattice, to afford a greater level of privacy. I’ve visited as a tourist and it’s a wonderful building.”
The Soul Collector stopped to sip his tea. “The young Indian woman described details of the building to her Mother, without ever having been inside. She described the Blue Room, deep within the City Palace. Once her abilities developed, she could connect with her past lives. She learned to use her third eye to communicate with the spirit world. She became well known in her local region and was compelled to seek out the Sampan Man. The two formed a life long bond as they both rose to Arch Druid.
This tiny slim Indian woman gained wisdom and access to the spirit world. She’s well in her seventies now but as sharp as ever. She has the ability to stand on the street, in front of the tallest wall of the Hawa Mahal and go into a trance. I have watched this and it’s amazing. She will start to sway and hold a small piece of smoldering sage in her hand. She selects a window and starts to connect with a woman long since gone. It’s as if the spirit of the woman is still watching the real world unfold through one of those jharokhas. She can connect with, and talk to, the dead. She’s told us about a rogue spirit, trained in the art of Gieging. Gieging is a special technique, used by spirits, to enter an open portal and manifest into the physical world. We know the Order of the Serpent has moved a spirit through the open portal in Brussels and into your friend’s crystal. He seems to be guiding the young man and searching for the artifacts. He knows about the Golden box and the Amulet. He must be stopped. So now you can see. It’s because of the third Arch Druid’s special powers that we know so much. She’s now in hiding.”
The Keeper pushed a small cardboard box across the table towards David. “Quick, put it into your coat pocket. I can’t tell you how wrong this feels. Every fiber in my body is saying hold on to this. I have been protecting this Amulet for over twenty five years and just giving it away feels wrong.”
“Then take it back,” said David under his breath.
“No,” said the Keeper firmly. “I can’t. Don’t you see? They know who I am. It’s too dangerous for me to have this in my possession. You’ll need this as well.” The Keeper removed his ring leaving a groove etched into his finger from the effects of time. He slid his closed fist across the table and opened it with his palm facing upwards. The ring sat proudly in the center of his palm and called out to David. It was an interesting ring, made with a polished dark stone in the center and hieroglyphics etched in the gold.
“What’s this?” asked David.
The Keeper told David the story of the broken claw of Wepwawet, the two Magicians, Nesu Narmer and the genesis of the two rings. He described the spell that the Magicians had placed upon the rings. “Watch my friend.” The Keeper extended his hand and opened it gesturing for the ring. David placed the ring in the center of his outstretched palm. The Keeper placed the ring on the smooth surface of the small table. The ring instantly spun with the polished stone facing the wall the table was pushed against. David moved the ring with his finger placing the stone away from the wall. It spun quickly back to its original position facing the wall.
“This ring will always point to its other half?”
The Keeper picked up the ring and concealed it within his hand. He left his clenched fist upon the tabletop. “It works both ways. Now put this on and for God’s sake don’t lose it. We suspect the other ring is with the Golden box but we don’t know for sure. If we used the ring to find the Golden box, we would be leading the bad guys to its location. That’s our problem, we’re being tracked.” The Keeper opened his fist and David retrieved the ring, slipping it onto his finger. It was an exact fit.
David looked to his right noticing a movement. He saw a woman’s hips clad in denim pause at the side of their table. Saar had her brown coat draped over her arm and was dressed in a tight fitting blue sweater with blue jeans. She was a beautiful young woman but she soon had David sitting to attention.
“We have to go, send him on his way and quick.” She walked to the front of the coffee shop and started to arrange her scarf and coat.
“I have to go. Guard this Amulet with your life and never take it out in public. No one should see this ever. Never leave it where it isn’t safe, wear it around your neck. I trust you with this Amulet; you’re now a Servant of Byblos and the Keeper. You have joined an illustrious group of people. Keep it safe and we’ll be in touch to give you instructions. Any time that we contact you we’ll always ask about your two dogs, understand?”
“Yes,” said David alarmed that he was now being left alone with this great responsibility.
The Keeper left the table. He joined Saar and they exited the coffee shop together.
* * * * *
Chapter 21: The Lamb and Flag
London, England, Present day.
Matt dabbed his lips with a napkin reflecting upon the best meal he had eaten in a long while. He pushed his chair back from the table to give his full stomach more clearance. The efficient waiter breezed into view carrying the bill. He slid the plastic clipboard discreetly towards the edge of the table. Matt was in Covent Garden, London, eating at Carluccio’s Caffé on the corner of Garrick Street and King Street. It was a neat white building with royal blue awnings and a convenient place to eat. It was a good location to kill some time. Matt left a generous tip and paid the bill in cash.
He smiled at the waiter on the way out. He narrowed his eyes as he tried to adjust to the darkening night. It was almost eleven o’clock in the evening when Matt walked along Garrick Street. He reached the red colored awning belonging to an eatery called Café Pasta. A black and white sign with white lettering announced, “Stone baked pizza and pasta grill.” This was the landmark he had been asked to find. It was located on the corner of a narrow cobbled street, Rose Street.
“This is it Matt. I recognize this narrow street, so turn here now.” The spirit’s voice was so loud, it sounded as if he were hovering on the inside of Matt’s ear.
Matt could hear laughter and conversation coming from the building at the top of the short narrow street. He could sense moisture in the air, it was about to rain and he wanted to get inside quickly. He knew he was losing control, as if he didn’t operate his own body anymore. The spirit had truly possessed him. He was awake, but not fully in control of his actions. As he walked towards the end of the street, he looked to his right at a distinctive white stone building. Its façade had adornments of a man’s face, perched high above the street. A Greek bearded face looked down on Matt, from the top of each window.
Matt could see the old pub, his body moved towards it uncontrollably. He recognized the red brick building. It was three levels high, with two attic windows. It gave the building an appearance of four levels. Just below the attic windows, suspended on a façade of the red brick, were large gold letters, “LAMB AND FLAG.”
“This is it, I feel it.” The voice rang through Matt’s head. Matt was completely possessed. He was no longer in control of his own body.
Attached to the exterior wall, Matt could see the familiar white ‘City of Westminster’ street sign. This one was Rose Street, WC2. This dog-legged alley wasn’t always so trendy. It started as a nice street and quickly fell from grace, after a large fire. The area was never the same again and became home to prostitutes, drunks and bare-knuckle fighters. The Lamb and Flag used to be called the Bucket of Blood, after the fighters. These brick buildings had certainly seen some history and the spirit knew them well. A Ring and the Golden box had been securely hidden, that fateful night in the library.
These artifacts had remained undisturbed for decades, until the current Soul Collector had managed to locate them. Hiding in Paris, The Soul Collector was determined to restore the mandates of The Servants of Byblos. He used his research powers and his Ring, to locate the missing box. He was determined to restore the legend as fact. He managed to reactivate the cause of this ancient society. The Golden box had been lost, but he always remained convinced of its existence. Once its location was identified, The Soul Collector bought the building to safely retrieve the artifacts. The Soul Collector appointed a new Keeper and the mandate of The Servants of Byblos had been restored.
One of the most famous Keepers passed away and delegated his responsibility to a wise friend. The French Keeper took his rightful place in Byblos folklore, as the man who found the Golden box, as a famous German Knight had done once before. He joined others who fought to preserve the integrity of this powerful group, through heroic actions and dogged persistence. A powerful Asian businessman assumed the role of The Keeper.
Shortly after his appointment, the purchase of ‘The Lamb and Flag’ was concluded. It was to be refurbished by the mysterious Asian investor. Big Jack, was a cockney landlord looking to own a piece of his own pub. He was well liked in the community and a man with high integrity. He reluctantly entered into a partnership with the Asian investor. He seemed to be the perfect silent partner, occasionally interested in the profits and the expenses. Initially, Jack had reservations about this complicated business arrangement. He had only met his partner once, leaving it to the accountants to conduct the business transaction. There was only one behavior from his Asian partner that seemed odd.
During the pub’s renovations, he insisted that only his private contractor would conduct renovation work on the pub. He had bought the adjacent building. He seemed keenly interested in the details of how the pub would be extended into this space. He supervised every detail and obsessed about the quality of the workmanship. He would arrange visits after hours, to inspect the work in private. Paul Smith knew the Ring and the Golden box had been hidden, undiscovered for years. The secret cavity, within a section of wall, was a perfect hiding space. The Keeper seemed pleased with it. He had incorporated the existing hiding place into the new design of the pub. No one would suspect an artifact of such significance, would be hidden in such a public place. The Keeper would always know where the Golden box was located. The Soul Collector was informed that it was now safe. He was never told of its new location. He was told that it was, “Somewhere in England.”
If circumstances were dire, The Soul Collector could use his ring to locate and retrieve the hidden artifacts. It seemed a foolproof plan. If the Keeper were ever compromised, the Ring and the Golden box would always be safe. The Keeper’s accountants ensured the pub remained profitable. He gave strict instructions that no renovations were allowed, without his express permission, no matter how minor. This seemed odd and a little controlling. It was the only quirk the Asian partner had. Big Jack thought it was eccentric, but apart from this demand, he was pretty much hands-off. Over time, he grew to respect his partner. The Asian investor had honored his commitments and did not interfere with the running of the pub. Big Jack became comfortable with the arrangement. When new wiring was required, he dutifully respected his partner’s request. Occasionally, the Keeper would visit England. He would indulge in a quiet pint, sitting unnoticed in his own pub. Big Jack was always unaware of the hidden treasure within the cleverly crafted recess of the pub’s wooden wall.
Matt entered the small door, situated to the right of the pub’s main window. The pub had a wooden exterior, which looked old and authentic. It was a quiet night, with only a few patrons drinking under the low ceiling. Matt scanned the pub and pulled himself up to the bar.
“Yes Sir, what’ll you have?” asked Big Jack, a large red-faced man working behind the bar.
“Bottle of Beck’s,” said Matt, trying to look like a guy who just needed a drink. He proceeded to sit in a high wooden bar stool.
The spirit of Paul Smith looked around, trying to soak in the sights. He remembered the building’s layout and recalled the older part of the house destroyed by the fire. The layout was slightly different; it had been changed over time. The pub had expanded into the building next door and had incorporated the old library. “Where was it?”
Matt sat quietly, sipping from his drink. He paid the barman for the drink and walked across the worn wooden floor towards the men’s washroom. The spirit recognized the shape of the rooms but tried not to look at the pictures, plaques and framed photos. He was looking for a specific alcove. “There, move over there.” Matt moved involuntarily towards his left, “We’ve found it.”
Matt proceeded quickly around a corner and reached into his jacket for a small electrical device. It flashed a green LED when it sensed Gold of the highest caliber. He held the device to the wooden paneled wall and the LED glowed green. Matt looked around and took his opportunity while it was quiet. He reached into his coat and extracted a sharp tool. He slammed the spiked metal tool into the wooden wall panel. He used such force that it broke two small bones in his hand and wrist. The pain was excruciating but the spirit was in control, not Matt.
Surprisingly, the blade penetrated the wooden board and passed through into a concealed cavity. He used the serrated edge of the spike to act like a saw. He worked quickly for fear of being discovered. He moved the blade in and out, slicing through the old dry wood. Making a hole the size of his fist, he reached into the wall and felt a metal mechanism. He also felt the outline of a box. He used his fingers to gently draw the box closer to the opening. He could see the box but something was moving in front of it. The Golden box was dragging a Ring forward towards the opening. Matt could hear voices approaching. He pinched the Ring with his fingers, pulling it from the cavity. He slipped it onto his left index finger. With his right hand, he reached for the Golden box. The spirit blocked the pain and drove Matt onwards. Grasping the thin end of the box, he carefully withdrew the heavy object from the orifice within the wall.
More voices could be heard. This time they sounded closer. Matt quickly tucked his tools and his bounty into his coat pocket, before ducking into the men’s washroom. A man walked in as Matt washed the wood dust from his hands. The man nodded, approached a urinal and turned his back to Matt. Matt dried his hands on a paper towel. He threw the crumpled towel into the garbage bin and quickly headed for the bar. Matt nodded farewell to the bar man and made his way to the door. He breathed deeply and left the pub quickly before he could be discovered. He felt the weight of the small Golden box resting against the lining of his coat pocket. “We have it,” screamed the voice within his head.
Matt hurried through the dark busy streets, towards the Strand Palace Hotel. He was soon safely tucked away from prying eyes. He hung his coat carefully on a hanger within his hotel room closet. He reached into the pocket and withdrew the Golden box. It was heavy and exquisite. The box shone brightly, despite being covered in a film of dust. It had been hiding within a secret compartment since the night of the fire. Work crews had come close to finding it, when they renovated the pub and converted the library. An electrician had almost discovered the precious object, when he tried to run a wire through the wall to rewire a hallway light. He had encountered the metal latch of the concealed mechanism and decided to pull the wire under the obstruction. Old buildings were full of surprises and you needed to be flexible in how you got the job done. Behind the walls, no one can see if you followed code or not.
Matt examined the box, washing the dust away with a damp face cloth. The gold was a deep rich yellow color; it was old gold. It reflected the light from a worn out bulb hanging from a wire in the hotel room. Matt’s sore fingers positioned themselves under the golden latch. He sprung the hinged catch upwards. The lid flipped open, rotating a golden pin at the back of the box. It opened to reveal an empty box. The insides were smooth with impeccable seams, as if the box were made from one continuous piece of gold. “Just the right size to fit an Amulet,” echoed through Matt’s brain. Matt was still fighting for control. Each day he felt weaker and was losing the fight.
That night, Matt’s mobile phone was in demand. Numerous messages were left. They started with a polite inquiry, followed by increasingly concerned messages. After being ignored for hours, the messages became threats and then stopped. Matt would have returned the messages promptly but the mobile phone had been disabled. It was now in pieces, buried deep within a city rubbish bin. The spirit had other ideas on how the next series of events would play out.
Paul Smith had always been a driven man. Dying from burns, while hiding in a hotel room, was an excruciating way to leave this world. He remembered vividly the conversation he heard in the library. He remembered reading the Book of Byblos, stolen that fateful night. He recalled the fight, the fire and that damn protective dog. The walk back to his hotel was excruciating. His burns were extensive and proved to be fatal. He swore on his deathbed that he would find the Amulet and the Golden box. He would find a way to avenge his death and come back to this world with greater power. He would one day use this dark magic to revisit this world. He smiled when he thought about regaining his youth with the wisdom he now had. He would sweep Claire off her feet and live with her as man and wife. When Claire passed away, he would be free to move between time and space. The women of today dressed more provocatively and were far more sexually aggressive. He liked that, yet he missed the naivety of the women from his age; they would believe anything.
Paul had shown promise in the afterlife. He was smart and gifted. He was being tutored for special tasks that could involve visiting the physical world. His Gieging studies had been progressing well. He was leaning how to separate from the collective spirit and become an individual. Paul had learned of a crystal and a race of people from Lemuria. He knew that if he separated at the right moment, he would be able to pass through an open portal and inhabit the crystal. When Paul was dropped from the Gieging program he was devastated and angry.
Paul channeled his thoughts and instructions through a medium working for the Order of the Serpent. He told them, he knew how to find the Golden box and the Amulet. He struck an accord. If they would follow his instructions and locate the crystal, he would assist them. He would help to flush out the three Arch Druids of the Servants of Byblos. He would assist them in finding the artifacts. In return for his help, he would be allowed to manifest in physical form on this earth.
The Order of the Serpent obliged offering him a fit young male body and mind. Matt was the unsuspecting prize. Easily influenced he thought he was only a carrier. The spirit would be trapped within the crystal pendant. Cryanna had programmed the pendant to hold the spirit temporarily. Paul Smith knew how to infiltrate Matt’s mind, like a parasite.
The plot was set. The crystal pendant had been secured. Beth Martindale was helping Subra and Corum find an open portal in Brussels. Paul Smith waited. Once Beth stepped upon the Shell, she activated the portal. Paul separated from the collective conscious and quickly surged through the portal. Subra and Corum unsuspectingly passed through the portal the other way. Paul found his receptive vessel in the welcoming Indigo energy provided by Beth Martindale.
She was an Indigo Child, surrounded by purple energy. Fearful that Beth would feel his presence, he instructed Matt to touch Beth. Matt had been following Beth. As soon as she stood on the Shell, she fell to the ground. This was the perfect scenario for Matt to touch Beth in a way that didn’t appear odd. He extended his hand to help her from the ground. Paul or Badra surged through Beth’s arm to enter Matt. He flooded into Cryanna’s crystal pendant, suspended from Matt’s neck. Beth was so confused she had feelings of energy pulsing through her body. She felt Subra leaving her body and had blacked out for a second or two. She felt the energy rush through her but she thought that was the effects of the portal.
The plan had been set in motion. As long as Matt wore the pendant Paul would be in control. The Order of the Serpent wanted the artifacts and Paul would direct Matt to find them. Matt’s actions would not raise suspicions. It looked like Paul was living up to his end of the bargain. Paul had instructed the Order not to communicate with him directly, until he had secured the Golden Box.
Anything earlier than that would raise suspicions within Matt and freak him out. Now the Golden box was secure, and control over Matt was complete, Paul felt it was time to activate the remainder of his plan. He would break away from the Order of the Serpent and double cross them. He needed to find the Amulet and take the powers for his own use. He had led the Order to believe in the power of the artifacts. He told them that the powers only work on the living. His reward would be living his life in this world through Matt. This seemed to allay any fears that they had about a double cross. How gullible these people were. How easily manipulated and tricked they were. Paul was now in control. He just needed to find the Amulet and with his knowledge, combined with Matt’s modern knowledge, they would find it easily. They now had the Ring. Paul knew the Ring would point to the Keeper. The Keeper would have the Amulet.
Paul knew the Elders from the Order of the Serpent would not be pleased. They would come after Matt. Paul would need to be clever and evasive. Matt would provide a suitable host until he could find the Amulet.
* * * * *
Chapter 22: A Fragile Heart
Haworth, West Yorkshire, England, Present day.
Beth paced frantically, following a patterned line, woven into her old carpet. She felt agitated, trapped within the living room of her cozy cottage. Beth was bored, irritated and wanted to eat. She was not hungry, just really annoyed. Matt had played her for a fool. He had violated her body and her mind. He had gained her trust, accepted her love, and betrayed her in the worse way. Why had he done this? How could he have been so cold, so callous? She stopped suddenly and exhaled loudly. She rolled her eyes in the direction of the low ceiling. Beth looked skywards towards the heavens, confident that this was the location that contained her answers. Perhaps the Gods would be kind enough to impart some wisdom.
Beth screamed at the top of her voice, “Maybe I wanted to hear it so badly that my ears betrayed my mind, in order to secure my heart.” She paused, “I could never sound so eloquent. I’d like to thank you, Margaret Cho, for the quote.” She hung her head feeling sorry for herself, “Well Margaret, I bet you could come up with an even better quote, if you knew how much of a fool I’ve been.” Beth let out another sigh. She perched on the edge of her couch. “Matt used me and now David’s taken off. What’s with men and me?” A smile crept across her face, “Women who seek to be equal with men, lack ambition.” She laughed but she didn’t feel happy.
Beth caught her reflection in the mirror. She spoke to herself, “I seem to be attracting a lot of what I don’t want. Men like to take off on me. I must be driving them away. I’m so bored, all I seem to do these days is hang around and wait for a man. They take off and leave me, while I sit here and stew. Come on Beth, snap out of this.” She stared at herself intently and studied her glum reflection. “I’ve been blessed with this gift. I have access to all of this wisdom; now use it. Lao Tze would tell you this. Watch your thoughts; they become words. Watch your words; they become actions. Watch your actions; they become habits. Watch your habits; they become character. Watch your character; it becomes your destiny.”
Beth paused and reflected upon the wisdom contained within the quote. “I’m going out, I can’t take much more of this.” Beth grabbed her heavy coat and paused by the door. She bent over and tugged at her laces. As she struggled to loop the thick rough lace another quote sauntered into her head. “It is a waste of energy to be angry with a man who behaves badly, just as it is to be angry with a car that won’t go.” Beth shook her head to challenge the thought. “Bertrand Russell was a man, how would he know?” stormed Beth, as she tugged the lace tight on her running shoe.
Beth felt for her keys, deep within her coat pocket. She slammed her door closed as she stepped out onto the narrow slated porch leading from her cottage. She gave the door a firm tug, to ensure it was closed. She spun around gracefully and bounded down the slate steps. She proceeded to walk briskly along Sun Street. She headed in the direction of Main Street, with its shops and pubs. As she walked, the tip of her running shoe dragged. Her foot did not clear the raised slate located within the uneven sidewalk. She had pushed her leg forward and hit the protruding slate lip with full force. Her ankle buckled and she felt herself falling forward as she tripped over the immovable slab. Beth struggled to maintain her footing. It was far from graceful but she managed to regain her balance and remain upright. “Damn it,” she snapped, glaring at the protruding slate lip. She glanced across the narrow street where two teenage boys, dressed in American style hoodies, were sniggering at her misfortune. Beth caught their glances and felt embarrassed. Her face flushed and she became angry. A quote forced its way into her consciousness. “Boys will be boys, and so will a lot of middle-aged men.”
She strode confidently onwards but a small tingling sensation forced its way into her brain. She had jarred her ankle and the pain of the swelling started to register. Beth wanted to leave Sun Street so she could begin her ascent of Main Street. She would leave the boys behind her and feel free from their patronizing sniggers. As she approached Main Street, she passed the antique shop and stopped. Her body stiffened as if bolted to the cobbles. She looked at the street lamp and a patch of cobbles underneath. She had fallen there that fateful stormy night. She walked over to the street lamp and stared at a couple of cobblestones. She wanted them to talk to her. Perhaps they would explain why this happened? Why her? An Indigo Child in the wrong place or was it the right place? Beth shook her head and tried to wipe away any negative thoughts from her mind.
She recognized the pattern of self-doubt. She had followed this well-worn path of feeling sorry for herself before. She thought about how her life may have been different. What if she would have been fortunate to have two loving parents? What if she would have been exposed to two strong role models? Beth’s strong body slumped as she continued to ascend the steep cobbled street. Her thoughts turned to Anwar, the kind old man in the allotment. He would have been wonderful in this situation. He would have put his Fatherly arm around her and dispensed some sage advice designed to make Beth feel better. His passing was sad. The thought of his overgrown allotment just made her indulge in self-pity. Sakura was a strong intelligent woman, the type that Beth longed to have as a Mother. Sakura was loving, wise and driven. She cared deeply for her daughter, Kaigara. Kaigara like countless before her, rebelled and took her Mother’s love for granted. Oh, how Beth would have loved a Mother to share thoughts, tears and concerns with.
She lowered her head to the wind and pushed her body forward against the grade of the hill. Her calf muscles protested mildly but the pain in her ankle was worse. Beth decided to ignore the pain and walked on with purpose. “I need some good advice,” she said to herself. “Good advice from someone who cares about people. I can’t simply hitch myself to the bar of the Black Bull and strike up a conversation with a stranger.” Beth knew she could always entice a man to talk with her. She also knew that the advice she would receive would be conveyed in drunken sound bites. The bar hogging men were all the same. They would love to spend time drinking with a pretty girl. They would offer their drunken advice as they peeked down her blouse. This fake sincerity would be an elaborate mask, in the hopes of a one-night stand and some bragging rights. “No thanks,” slipped from her lips. She had reached the Black Bull pub and turned her head to the left as she cast her eyes towards the Church. As if the wind were blowing her, she glided up the dark slate steps and entered the Church.
Beth entered walking to the right taking a position half way down the pews in a quiet spot. The Church was empty but a small noise drew her attention. At the altar, the Vicar came into view as he busied himself. He seemed to be adjusting a white cloth and rearranging a candle and some books. His back faced the pews unaware of any visitors. Beth leaned forward as she watched his actions. Her elbow nudged a prayer book, balanced precariously on the pews wooden ledge. To her horror it tipped and fell. As it struck the cold stone floor the edge of the book hit hard, making an audible noise. The Church was designed to capture and amplify the sounds of rejoice. The sound was directed with keen efficiency towards the Vicar. He turned quickly and had located Beth in an instant. He recognized her fresh face and calmly walked towards her.
“Beth, isn’t it?” inquired the Vicar.
“Mark, isn’t it?” replied Beth. As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she regretted them. They sounded catty and snide. She really wanted to talk with Mark and have an honest conversation with him.
“That’s right. Are you here to pray and be alone with your thoughts or would you like to talk?” Mark looked deep into Beth’s green eyes. She decided right then that she could not bluff her way through this one.
“I need to talk Mark. I’m sorry to bother you but I don’t have anyone else. I just need to hear a supportive voice.”
Mark smiled. “I’m guessing you haven’t heard from your Fiancée yet?”
Beth looked at Mark. For a split second, she tried to decide if she should open up her soul to this man. He was a Vicar but he still was a relative stranger. Beth ran a couple of thoughts through her mind, “He was at least sober and probably not interested in looking down my blouse. I can trust this guy.”
Mark recognized her hesitation, “You only have to say what you’re comfortable with.”
“He’s surfaced in London. He’s alive and active.”
“Well that’s a relief, isn’t it?” Mark caught Beth’s facial expression and stopped immediately.
“I still don’t know why he left me but it’s clear that he was using me. My usefulness had come to an end and he’s moved on. I’ve met someone wonderful a couple of days ago and started to feel better about myself.” Beth stopped to look at Mark. She wondered if he would approve of finding a replacement so quickly. “I thought we had made a connection but I was wrong again. He left for something urgent. It was obviously far more urgent than me. I don’t understand men and I’m not sure I really want to. One thing is clear though; I must have a neon loser sign attached to my head. It flashes so brightly that it attracts the same type of losers like a moth to a flame. A man can be happy with any woman as long as he does not love her.”
The Vicar paused, raising his eyebrows slightly in a questioning manner.
Beth helped him out, “Oscar Wilde, it was Oscar Wilde.”
“Yes, it sounds like him. I’m sorry Beth; I don’t have a snappy quote for you. Your fiancé left for a reason. You’re hurt because you don’t understand his motives and that’s reasonable. If someone truly loves you they will come back, they’ll always come back. I can’t tell you how many times I have counseled a couple and always the same question surfaces. It doesn’t matter if it’s a young bride or the fortieth year of marriage. She will continue to ask, how will I know if he truly loves me? The first thing I’ve observed about relationships is this. All men are different. Some are silly romantic fools, while some are seemingly stone hearted. Throughout my years of counseling, I have only heard one consistent answer to this age-old question.
Men will say this: I’m still here aren’t I? You see Beth, men choose who they want to be with. Once the love stops, they leave. Like men, their logic is rather simple really. If they love you, they will always come back.”
Beth listened intently, her eyes transfixed upon the prayer book in front of her. “Matt’s not coming back and if he does, it won’t be with good intensions.”
“Will he hurt you?” The Vicar looked concerned.
“No. I’m being melodramatic,” said Beth, scrunching up her face.
“What about this new man?”
“I hardly know him; but I like him. I have strong feelings for him. He left me for some important business after he promised to help me.”
The Vicar lowered his gaze to meet her green eyes. “If he comes back, he likes you, if he doesn’t then just move on. Beth, you will have to trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”
“Sounds like you do. I’m onto you though.”
The Vicar moved nervously in his seat, “How so?”
“You don’t say much, you skulk around the Church dressed in black but you know a lot, you see a lot. It was Francois de La Rochefoucauld in the sixteen hundreds that said, the height of cleverness is to be able to conceal it.”
“And you think I use my robes to conceal the fact that I’m a very clever man? By the way I don’t skulk anywhere.”
Beth immediately switched to her serious mode, “What do you think I should do? I need to break this pattern of always being the victim and having people I care about just leave me. Am I the one who’s driving them away?”
The Vicar rested his hand in a supportive way, upon her forearm. “You’re wonderful and you mustn’t fill yourself up with self doubt and worry. If you do, you’ll continue to attract men who will be only too pleased to leave you. Right now, I would recommend a good book. Go home and stop worrying. If your new man comes back, it means he really likes you. If he doesn’t, well …” the Vicar paused to select his next words carefully. “You’ll need to move on to a man who really appreciates you.”
“It’s complicated and the white noise in my head is my doing.”
“So settle it down. Relax and stop over thinking everything. Set your intention and let it go. Trust that the Lord will deliver it for you, when you’re ready.”
“I’m hoping that David will come back.” Beth listed to her own words. It was the first time that she realized how much David meant to her. She really wanted David and it scared her.
The Vicar released her forearm, “Try to relax and give him some room to tip his hand.”
“I will. I torture myself you know. What if he meets a pretty girl while he’s away? There are so many beautiful women in this world and so few refined men. What if he wants to keep us both on the go? Is that a possibility and how would I know?”
“A man with a watch knows what time it is.” The Vicar raised his eyebrows expectantly.
“A man with two watches is never sure,” said Beth, completing the quote.
“If he loves you, he will come back. Go now and stop turning yourself into tighter knots.”
“Thank you Mark, you’re right.”
Mark smiled as he placed both hands on the back of the wooden pew. Mark caught himself hoping that this new man would indeed come back to protect her fragile heart.
* * * * *
Chapter 23: Kissing is Natures Coffee
Beth followed her normal pattern, a trick she used when she wanted to calm her mind. She threw herself into her work. She let the busy pace consume her idle hours. For the last two days all Beth could think about was the new leisure complex in Taiwan and the details of the land purchase. She had swapped emails with Kaigara in Toronto and analyzed the financial package forwarded to her. She had conducted online chat sessions with Sakura and informed her lawyers to conclude the transaction. The property seemed like a good investment. It would provide a steady income stream from its visitors and guests. This income could provide welcome relief for the women’s shelters in India. Swan Property Management had donated their services in this transaction. The revenue generated would support Sakura’s charity and cause.
Beth felt good about making a difference and continuing the legacy of the work that Anwar had started. She waited for the email. The confirmation would come from Mr. Wilks of the Blue Phoenix Group. Beth had left the TV on to provide some background noise. The sound of voices was comforting. She rose to turn the TV off. She stopped to look at the athletic figures moving on a beautiful carpet of green. The caption showed Liverpool Football Club completing a game against Manchester United. The home fans were singing. Kenny Dalglish was smiling broadly on the screen, his name captioned under his image. Liverpool had managed to score twice and Manchester United only once. Beth clicked the off button and returned to her desk.
She glanced at the little wooden Lord Ganesha, sitting attentively on top of her computer monitor. “The remover of obstacles,” she said fondly. As she studied the details of Ganesha’s face, she heard the doorbell ring. Beth moved quickly and grasped the door handle. She didn’t stop to see who was there; she simply pulled the door open. David smiled sheepishly.
“Go get your coat, I’d like to take you out for a coffee.” He was worried about the reaction he’d get. Would she be glad to see him or annoyed at his departure?
Beth felt a warm tingle of relief sweep through her body. She didn’t know what to do, so she just followed her instincts. She lunged forward and planted a passionate kiss, wrapping her arms around David’s neck. She just blurted it out, “Kissing is natures coffee.” She gazed deep into his brown eyes and watched the wind blow strands of his black hair from his face. She felt the skin around her eyes crinkle, as a smile swept uncontrollably across her face. David was surprised, but happy.
He guessed, “Mark Twain?”
“Nah, not even close, it was Scott Westerfeld. Come in for a minute. I really missed you.” Beth searched for her coat.
“Beth, I’m serious. I’m so sorry I had to leave. I want to tell you all about it, about what I found. See, I’m getting all tongue-tied with excitement.” David took Beth by the hand and marveled at how pretty she was. “I know we’re moving fast but when I was away from you, I realized something.”
“What’s that?”
“I noticed that I didn’t feel right. I needed to be close to you. I missed you. Beth, I haven’t felt that way before.”
Beth moved to within inches of David’s face and looked deep into his eyes. “I know. I willed you home. I knew you’d come back. Just don’t leave again without me,” she said with a wry smile.
“Let’s go get that Coffee, I have a lot to tell you.” David moved towards the door and Beth held his sleeve, pulling him backwards. She ran her fingers through his hair and kissed him passionately again. Beth noticed he smelled sweet and clean.
“You smell good,” she said approving of the new fragrance he was wearing. When they separated, she could not help but smile. “Did you know that Mark Twain had a coffee quote? He said, the best coffee in Europe is Vienna coffee, compared to which all other coffee is fluid poverty. Isn’t that a neat quote? I love that term, fluid poverty.”
David smiled; he knew his decision to return was the right one. It wasn’t just a feeling of obligation; he was falling for her and needed to protect her from any harm. He knew he’d lost his heart as she smiled and led him out of the door. Together they found a little coffee shop and a quiet corner. David reached out across the table and Beth cupped his hands in hers. David told Beth of his email from the Sampan Man and his trip to Amsterdam and Cologne. He left out locations and a few key details to ensure that Beth did not have all of the facts. He wouldn’t want to compromise the Servants of Byblos. David felt strong and the ache in his left knee had disappeared. He leaned back in his chair. The Amulet hanging from his neck moved under his shirt. Just then his nostrils caught the sweet smelling scent. He instinctively moved his hand to his neck. He ensured the Amulet was tucked away out of sight, safely within his shirt.
Beth noticed a tint of gold from a ring on David’s finger. “That’s nice, did you buy yourself a gift?” She reached out to touch the ring.
David looked confused, “I don’t know what you mean Beth. I was wearing this when we met. Perhaps you didn’t notice?”
Beth knew this to be false. David had just taken a hot knife and plunged it deep within her heart. She had offered her heart and yet again another man lies to her. She had admired his hands when they met, how smooth they were. She had studied them and admired their simple honesty. She would have noticed a gold ring. She would have reviewed its design. Now he lies and tries to make her look forgetful. How could she trust him now?
The deceit must have swept across her face because David corrected himself quickly. “Beth I’m sorry, I can’t do this. I thought I could keep a secret from you. I wanted to protect you. I now realize that I don’t want to keep any secrets from you. You’re too important to me.”
“The face is the mirror of the mind, and eyes without speaking confess the secrets of the heart.” Beth watched as the quote’s meaning sank into David’s conscious thoughts.
He looked up at her eyes, “You have another one don’t you?”
She laughed, “Yes. Of course I do, that’s why you love me.” There was an awkward silence and no time to retract the statement. Their eyes locked and that delicious moment held. “If you reveal your secrets to the wind then you should not blame the wind for revealing them to the trees.”
“Am I that transparent?” David looked at his cup and started to feel a little embarrassed. We’re moving fast here but your statement is true, I have fallen for you.”
“I think I like you more than like.” Beth regretted the words as soon as they spilled from her mouth.
David raised his eyes and brought her hand to his mouth. “I’m no saint Beth but I’ve never felt like this before. I don’t care if it’s obvious for the world to see. I know I love you.”
Beth felt warm and comfortable. She leaned in and as if conveying a deep secret of her own mouthed the words to David, “Me too, I love you too.”
For the next hour, David described his recent trip, his conversations and his findings. He described the Amulet and told the whole story to Beth. She hung on every word and David noticed the sparkle in her eyes as she displayed focused attention. He told her of the Servants of Byblos, the Rings and the Golden box. He talked of the dangers and how the Ring is a symbol. He explained to Beth, why he had tried to down ply the importance of the Ring with her. Beth held David’s hand and rocked his Ring gently, between her fingers. She looked downwards at the gold symbols and studied the dark center stone.
“I can’t believe that this is a piece of claw from an ancient beast of the underworld?”
“Well, you’re going to have to believe. It’s all true.”
“Can I see the Amulet? I think I smelled it on you, when you first came into my house.” Beth laughed, “I thought it was nice cologne.”
David pulled a face, “It’s that strong?”
“Yes, it smells like almond honey soap.”
David looked over both shoulders, to ensure there was no one listening. He reached into the top of his shirt and located the pendant. He lifted the pendant using the chain and its shape became visible. The head of a jackal, carved in hard polished wood, appeared above his shirt collar. The sweet smell was amplified and Beth seemed mesmerized. David had described the legends and stories that contributed to the power of the artifacts. Beth sat transfixed in silence, her body calm and motionless.
David noticed her silence, “You okay?”
“Yes” was all she could say. “People will kill you for that. You know that don’t you.”
“Yes. They’ll try to go through you, to try to find this. That’s why I have to get you to safety and hide this.” He tucked the Amulet back into his shirt.
Beth moved forward and lowered her voice, “Where’s the Golden box?”
“It’s hidden safely, in a secret location. I don’t know where it is, but I do know that it’s safe. I have friends who’ll help me but we need to lie low for a while. I think we’re both in danger. Are you up for this?”
Beth lowered her voice to a whisper, “Yes. What about you? You’re The Soul Collector now, you’re in major danger.”
David inspected the patrons of the coffee shop. “For now they don’t know who I am. But they might if they connect us.”
Beth squeezed his hand tightly, “Then why are you here?”
Beth looked beautiful; the muted light illuminating half of her face in cloudy sunshine. David loved that moment but he felt the enormous weight of the question. “I had to come back and get you. I couldn’t leave you thinking that I’d abandoned you. I want you to come back to Hong Kong with me; it will give us some breathing room. Then we can plan what we want to do. I want to be with you, I know that for certain. I’ve thought about this long and hard. I know I’ve fallen for you Beth. That sounds a bit crazy after such a short time. It’s just as crazy as ancient Gods, Amulets, Golden boxes and Rings.”
“We should go. Let’s go back to the cottage and we can decide what we’re going to do next, while we still have some time.”
Beth reached out and took David’s hand to reassure him. As they left the coffee shop she shuddered. The sun had hidden behind the gathering clouds and the temperature had dropped. The wind was biting and they both looked at each other to acknowledge the dramatic drop in temperature. They looped arms and snuggled close, to challenge the cold. She liked the idea that David would lie about the Ring to protect her. She liked the fact that he couldn’t lie to her, even more.
A strong biting gust hit the couple full on. Beth leaned closer to David and caught the strong sweet smell of the Amulet. She shouted above the noise of the wind. “The human heart is like a ship on a stormy sea, driven about by winds blowing from all corners of heaven.”
“Well, we must be in heaven then!” shouted David. As they walked towards Haworth Main Street, the wind howled and the modern windmill, perched high on the hill of the opposing valley, spun steadily. It was a high white pylon with white blades. The clouds raced to block the earlier sunlight, covering the sky with a blanket of dark brooding shapes. The wind whipped the clouds and it was obvious a storm was rolling in. As they reached the top the Main Street the heavens opened. At first it was heavy spots of rain and then a steady stream of increasing droplets. Beth had lived here long enough to know that you should run for cover and find a warm place. She looked to her right and saw the welcoming light of the Church. It would provide a great temporary refuge from the oncoming downpour.
Haworth Church had a graveyard full of children and young adults. They had suffered through the wind, rain and cold. They would succumb to death’s cold grip way too early. In bygone times, once you were wet, it was almost impossible to get warm again. Beth took one last look at the angry sky and ushered David towards the slate steps. They passed the shiny red telephone booth and proceeded up the path, towards the Church. “Where are we going?”
Beth couldn’t resist, “To get married. Why waste time?” David stopped and looked at Beth. His hair whipped around in the wind and his ears were starting to turn red with the cold. “I’m kidding, you sentimental fool, we’re ducking for cover or we’ll both get soaked. We won’t make it back to the cottage in time. Come on follow me.” Beth grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the stone entrance to the old Church. The sky was now black and the wind seemed to swirl even more. David had seen typhoons but was completely surprised by how quickly the pleasant weather had turned. It seemed that a storm had blown in over the moors, like the crashing waves of a Tsunami.
David and Beth crashed into the lobby of the Church. They slammed the heavy wooden door, fighting against the persistent wind.
“Sanctuary,” David said, in a relieved tone.
Beth laughed at him “You need to be hardy, if you come from these parts. You need to be tough as nails and resourceful.”
“I’m not from these parts,” said David, trying to catch his breath and rearranging wet strands of hair from his face.
“Clearly,” said Beth still laughing at how surprised he looked.
David sensed a presence behind him and turned to see a portly woman approaching. She was dressed smartly in an expensive looking jacket, silk blouse and pants. She clearly was not dressed for the wild weather outside.
“Come on in you two, you must be freezing.” David just stared at the well-meaning lady. “We have a heater and some hot tea up front, if you like?”
It took a while but Beth realized that the woman had a broad Yorkshire accent. She was friendly enough but her smart appearance could not disguise that fact that she had been raised well within the Yorkshire Dales. Her accent was thick and colorful. David could not understand a word. Beth tugged David’s arm, “This kind lady is offering us a hot tea. They have a heater up front if you like?”
David turned to the friendly lady, “Oh, wonderful. Thank you, that would be nice.” He turned to Beth and smiled in a coy way.
“Good, follow me then love.” She turned and Beth started to follow tugging at David’s arm. At the front of the Church, a few people gathered, sipping warm apple tea and hovering around a small electric space heater. As they approached, they could feel the difference in temperature. The group opened as if to welcome the new attendees. The Vicar recognized Beth and noticed she was arm in arm with her companion. “Beth, nice to see you again, come on in and grab a hot drink.” The Vicar looked at David and then switched his attention back to Beth.
“Oh, I’m sorry. This is David. David, this is Mark, er, the Vicar, Vicar Mark.” Beth felt very awkward.
David recovered elegantly. “It’s nice to meet you, Vicar Mark.” David extended his hand and offered a warm sincere smile. This seemed to break the ice and alleviate her clumsy introduction. The two shook hands as if they had known each other for years. The Vicar glanced over to Beth with an inquiring look. She nodded quickly as if to indicate yes, he is the one and yes, he did come back. She couldn’t help it. She couldn’t have stopped it if she had tried. It was involuntary. She beamed a smile that relayed her relief to the Vicar.
He smiled too, “Come on, get some of this hot tea, it’s really good. The storm will pass soon.” As David moved towards the tea the Vicar turned to Beth. “I told you Beth. The storm always seems to pass. All you need is a bit of confidence and some faith.”
Beth couldn’t stop smiling. She followed the Vicar’s gesture towards the tea. She suddenly stopped to speak to him. “Faith may be defined briefly as an illogical belief in the occurrence of the improbable.”
David turned, “What’s that?”
“I said, yes please. I would like some tea,” Beth smiled at the Vicar. She had never been so happy, despite the dark clouds looming.
Beth and David stayed a while. They talked with the Vicar and the assembled guests, sheltering from the rain. David talked about Hong Kong with an elderly man. He had visited Hong Kong often, during his business banking days, prior to his retirement. David mingled effortlessly, making this social skills thing look easy. No doubt the experience received from countless business functions, over the years, had helped. He found that if he concentrated and watched the lips, he could navigate his way around the Yorkshire accent. He was getting used to the sounds. David had enjoyed himself and had lost track of time. It was nice to just have a conversation with interesting people. They were full of life’s experiences. Because they didn’t know who David was, they were more genuine, with no hidden agenda’s. They were all simply passing time, until the rain moved on.
David felt a hand upon his shoulder and turned to see Beth. “Shouldn’t you let these nice folks go home, now the storm has cleared out?”
David turned to face the old man he was talking with. “I’m sorry, it’s time to go. I’ve really enjoyed our conversation.”
“Me too, young man. You have a nice girl there, make sure you take good care of her and enjoy her while you can. Time sneaks up on you, like a windscreen on a bug.” He laughed heartily, proud of his funny quote as he shuffled his way to the exit. David looked at Beth and opened his hands, “What was that?”
“John Lithgow. The quote was from the American comedian, John Lithgow. I like the take care of her part, which was his.”
David smiled. He looked deeply into Beth’s eyes and quickly noticed her demeanor had changed. She was not smiling, her face looked tight and stressed. She wasn’t looking at him now. She seemed to be staring right past him, over his left shoulder. What was wrong?
* * * * *
Chapter 24: Fools in Love
Haworth, West Yorkshire, England, Present day.
While Beth had been talking to David, a dark cladded figure had caught her attention, at the back of the Church. The figure wore black boots, black jeans and a black coat, with the hood covering his face. She had glanced upwards to notice him take a pew, at the rear of the Church. Unnoticed by others, he had watched the small gathering thin out, one by one. David, Beth and the Vicar remained. Beth had been monopolizing the Vicar. The old man had just left, leaving David with a quote to think about.
It could have been feminine intuition; the hooded figure had stayed in the background, yet Beth was drawn to its presence. She had tried to act cool and keep the conversation going with the Vicar. Occasionally, she would glance over his shoulder, to track the dark figure. He remained stationary, hidden in the shadows, as the crowd depleted. Beth tracked the figure as it advanced towards the front of the Church. He took a side pew, closer to David.
She wasn’t sure but she recognized something about the distant figure’s gait. It was the small swagger in the walk and the way that he dropped his weight onto the pew. It was as if he had lost the support from his knees. He fell hard onto the wooden bench. She had seen this a hundred times before but her brain would not fire appropriately. She needed to connect the dots and recall this memory. It annoyed and intrigued her. She knew that movement; it was different, unique and still familiar.
When her brain finally returned the answer, she froze in fear. Beth had pieced the puzzle together. It was Matt!
Matt walked like that. Matt always flopped down hard on any chair, couch or bed, in that familiar way. The hooded figure, lurking in the shadows, was Matt. What did he want here? How had he tracked her down? Would he be violent seeing David?
All of these questions flooded into Beth’s mind, making her incapable of functioning. Before she could alert David, the figure was approaching at great speed. David was saying something but Beth could not hear the words. Within seconds, Matt struck David on the back of the head. He pointed a gun at the Vicar. “Don’t move, either of you.”
David lay motionless on the floor, a large cut oozed blood, matting his fine hair. The Amulet was suspended from David’s neck and began the healing process immediately. The force of the blow would have rendered anyone unconscious with a severe concussion. The cut on his scalp was instantly repaired and closed. The fog in David’s brain was instantly cleared and the swelling subsided. When David regained his consciousness, he knew the Amulet was the cause of his rapid recovery. His head was still covered in blood and he looked injured. He decided to fake his condition, laying motionless and acting groggy. His unsuspecting assailant would offer him the perfect opportunity; he just had to be patient.
The Vicar decided to try to control the situation. “Son, there’s no need to do anything stupid. You face some choices that may dictate the rest of your life. We don’t have much but the candelabras on the desk are made from solid silver. They should feed your habit.”
“Shut up fool,” snapped Matt, waving the gun from side to side.
The Vicar took one step forward, “Son….”
“Stay back, now. Or you’ll be on the floor with this guy. I’m not on drugs and I don’t need money. Both of you stand still.”
David groaned and reached up to his bloodied head with his hand. The Ring on his finger sensed the Ring on Matt’s finger. The force joining the two Rings was measurable. David’s hand was ripped from his head and flung violently in the direction of Matt. Matt could feel a tug on his hand, as if being guided by an invisible force. He looked downwards and immediately recognized the unique design of the Ring. Holding the gun steady, he bent David’s wrist in a painful way, pushing him back to the stone floor. David cried out in pain. Matt pulled the Ring from his finger and examined it. Slipping it onto the finger next to his Ring, they swiveled and joined, forcing his two fingers to weld together. David bided his time, waiting for the perfect moment.
Matt placed the gun to David’s head and raised the hand containing the two rings high in the air. “Do you know what this is Beth?”
The Vicar shot an inquiring look at Beth, realizing this man knew her.
“No Matt, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Clever girl Beth,” thought the Vicar, understanding that Beth had just identified the hooded stranger.
“Everyone is a liar Beth, but it doesn’t matter, because nobody listens.” Matt shoved the barrel of the gun against David’s head, causing him to moan.
“Nick Diamos,” said Beth.
“What?” Matt was annoyed.
“Your quote about lies, it was Nick Diamos, that said that.” Beth caught his stare from beneath the hood.
“I don’t give a damn about how smart you are Beth. You’re an idiot who doesn’t know when she’s being used.” Matt turned his attention to David, still at his feet covered in blood and seemingly dazed. Holding the gun in one hand, he grabbed David’s hair and pulled his head upwards sharply. “Where’s the Amulet? You know what I’m talking about. I’ve been watching you two. If you want to see her live, I suggest you give me the Amulet now.” He pulled David’s hair sharply, causing him to wince.
“Okay, just don’t hurt anyone.” David reached into his pocket.
“Don’t give him anything,” snapped Beth.
Matt waved the gun at Beth, while holding David’s hair. “You, shut it. Now give me that.” Matt had seen David’s movement towards his pocket and pushed the gun closer to David’s temple. His hand released its grip on David’s hair. Matt cupped his palm expectantly in front of David’s pocket. David reached in and placed an object, wrapped in a leather pouch, onto the palm of Matt’s outstretched hand.
Using one hand, Matt managed to open the leather poach. With Matt’s focus was directed towards the poach. David had managed to slide a hand across the belt buckle of his jeans. Concealed in the buckle, was a short spike, attached to a handle. It looked like it was part of an elaborately designed buckle but it detached, forming a small but effective weapon. David extracted the serrated spike. In one fluid movement, he took the opportunity to jam the spike firmly into Matt’s thigh. Matt screamed in pain, falling backwards from the force. David held on tight to the handle of the spike, causing it to rip flesh on its way out. As Matt fell, he knew he had to hold on to the gun.
David was fast and managed to thrust the spike into Matt’s side, shooting searing pain through his ribs and back. David finally lost his grip on the spike and leapt to his feet. Beth and the Vicar froze, astounded at what they had witnessed. “Run, now!” shouted David.
The Vicar grabbed Beth’s elbow and steered her to the right side of the Church and into a recess. David followed, ducking as he heard a shot whiz past his shoulder. They ran into a little dressing area, concealed from the Church. Running through the little room they headed towards a door that led to the graveyard. The rear exit was locked and the Vicar frantically searched for the key. His eyes flashed around the room as he tried to remember where he had left the key.
He rummaged through a drawer, within a small wooden credenza. He approached the door and fumbled with the key in the latch. The door opened and they were about to run free. “Hold it right there!”
They all turned to see Matt holding the gun, pointed in their direction. “Walk through the door slowly and stop. This room’s too small and full of potential weapons. Slowly now and stay close to the Church wall.”
They walked slowly into the graveyard, still close to the Church’s door. “Stop here.” Matt had selected a spot, well concealed from prying eyes. High tombstones, shrubs and trees created a private space. The torrential rain had stopped but it was still spitting. The cold wind blew the moisture into their faces. The sky was dark and the storm had passed but it looked like the second wave was about to start. Matt looked towards the sky. The dark angry clouds looked threatening. The wind was stronger and a cold northerly wind lashed the trees. The branches were stripped bare; a stark black color against the shifting sky. The graveyard was dimly lit. A solitary lamp bled a yellowish light from the street far away. Matt held the gun in one hand; with his other he clutched his bleeding side. He pointed the gun at David’s head.
“Matt, please don’t do this,” begged Beth.
“Shut it. You’re so stupid. I’m not Matt. I’m just using his body. You’ve no idea who I am and I’ve no emotional ties to any of you. I have my reasons for doing this. I need that Amulet now. Give it to me or people will start to die.” He turned the gun on Beth and aimed it at her face.
“Okay it’s yours.” David reached into his shirt and pulled the Amulet over his head. He held it in his hand and let it dangle from its chain. Matt could see the Amulet and moved his aim back to David.
“Now, give it to me quickly.” Matt felt weak, he was losing a lot of blood and the feeling in his leg was rapidly subsiding. He would not be able to support his own weight for very much longer. He needed the Amulet and then he could discard this frail shell of a body. David held the Amulet high in the air and watched it swing in the wind. He jerked his arm to the right and threw the Amulet across the graveyard. “You fool,” snapped Matt.
David motioned to spread out, making it difficult to track them all with a gun. Matt scampered to the landing place of the Amulet. The Vicar managed to slip behind a large gravestone covered in wet green moss. He slipped away and ran for help. Matt regained his balanced and trained his gun upon Beth and David. He had the Amulet in his hand but he still felt weak. Matt was wounded badly but he grasped the Amulet by the golden chain. Blood ran from his abdomen. His thigh had a dark bloodstain soaked into his blue jeans. The Amulet was not actually touching Matt’s flesh. He held it by the chain. It remained suspended blowing in the wind. The healing effects of the Amulet would not activate. Matt needed to slip the Amulet over his head and let it rest upon his bare chest. Matt continued to bleed and become weak.
Matt’s leg gave way, unable to support his own weight. He slumped to his left, clutching onto a headstone for support. Matt waved the gun around erratically. Beth and David remained rooted. “I don’t need to kill you. I have what I came for. Just stay calm and no one need get hurt, understand?”
They both nodded, watching the life drain from his injured body. Matt switched the Amulet to his gun hand. With his free hand he fumbled for the Golden box. The Golden box was heavy and his strength was draining. He glanced quickly to his right and spotted a weathered headstone sculpture. It was a stone Angel with outstretched hands. The Angel was a grave marker for Theodore Jackson. Sometimes fate plays its strange hand in ways that is difficult to understand. If humanity has learned anything from our collective experience, we know that there are no coincidences. Participants in this deadly scene did not know Jackson. In another, simpler time, Jackson and his trusty Beagle Dusty, had once played their part in protecting the Amulet. They now lay buried together, deep below the stone Angel marker. A lightening bolt flashed across the darkening sky, temporarily illuminated the graveyard. A loud thundering roar accompanied the lightening bolt, a second later.
The noise caused the trees to burst into life as a flock of black crows took flight, squawking their disapproval. David could hear the fluttering of wings as dark shapes moved quickly across the sky. The crows screamed loudly before settling in different trees to take refuge from the wind. It seemed spooky and surreal, the type of scene you would expect in a great B-movie horror flick.
The Angel headstone cupped her outstretched hands. Matt used them as a resting place for the heavy Golden box. He opened its lid, while keeping his focus on the anxious couple. Matt knew that in the malaise he’d lost the Vicar. He was either hiding behind a large gravestone or going for help. By the time he returned it would be too late. Beth took a step forward causing David to turn his attention towards her. Over the noise of the crows and the screaming wind he shouted, “Let him go Beth, we need to be safe.” Beth looked at the grave marker’s inscription, Theodore Jackson. She concentrated for a quote, something that Theodore Jackson might have said. “You know, sometimes you have to let him go, because it’s for the best, even though at the time you don’t think so.” That was the sign she was looking for. She nodded to David, knowing that he was right.
Matt was feeling light headed. His eyelids grew heavy and his vision was starting to get blurred. His sight was now partial his lids had closed, obstructing half of his normal sight. He had to tilt his head, to look forward. He knew he had to hurry; he was near to the end. If he needed to use his gun he would struggle to aim and he knew he would not be accurate. It was the implied threat that kept the balance of power in his favor. The spike had hit an organ and his internal bleeding was causing his body to shut down. The loss of consciousness was imminent.
Matt took the Amulet and shuffled towards the Golden box, dragging his bleeding leg. He turned towards David and Beth, still waving the gun directly at them. “I can’t tell you how I’ve waited for this moment. I just needed to find a couple of fools like you. Fools in love, are complete idiots. You know that it’s quite ironic. I’ve travelled across time for the very same reason. I’m not doing this for power. I’m doing this for love. It’s the one thing that makes a person a complete fool. What, no snappy quotes Beth?”
Beth stood silent. She heard a voice to her side; it was David. “Never pretend to a love which you do not actually feel, for love is not ours to command.”
“Very poetic, I didn’t expect you to come up with a quote but it looks like your little friend is speechless. With these, I’ll be able to command time, feelings and affections. I can feel the life seeping out of this useless body, so I’m going to leave you now. Before I go, let me fill in a few blank spaces for you. Beth, I’ve been controlling Matt all along. I lived in the crystal pendant for a while, gaining power and waiting for the right moment. I then moved into Matt’s mind. You’re so naive. The engagement and the ring, was my idea, to gain your trust. The crystal is a very special artifact. Matt’s nightmares were unfortunate but it became harder to separate my thoughts and experiences from his. His nightmares were merely a reenactment of my life.” He waited for her reaction, “Yes, I killed those men and I don’t regret it.”
Matt placed the Amulet inside of the Golden box. This had not occurred for thousands of years. He placed his hand on the Golden box and immediately felt a powerful force flooding through his body. He suddenly felt strong, vibrant and with no pain. He was being drawn in. It was Paul Smith, who was starting this journey to unlimited potential. Matt was in pain, unconscious and dying, due to his fatal wounds. Paul’s spirit entered the glowing light and bathed in its powerful healing energy.
David and Beth had a different perspective. When Matt placed his hand on the Golden box a luminous light surrounded him. The weathered Angel headstone took on a different appearance. The Angel shone a brilliant white, illuminating the entire graveyard. The Vicar accompanied by three men appeared just as the Angel started to glow. Frozen by the unusual sight, they stopped in their tracks, watching the scene unfold before them. Beth looked at the calming sight of this majestic Angel and realized she had seen this image before. It was the clue to the next portal. She had seen this image flash into her mind, that fateful day in Brussels. The opening of the next portal was foretold by that image.
Paul Smith’s spirit left Matt’s body in a golden stream of light. It glowed but it didn’t emit light. It was like a strange fog with a different color and consistency. It snaked its way down to Matt’s feet before being absorbed into the ground. After watching this strange fog disappear the Angel suddenly stopped glowing. She returned to the weathered, dull marker, that she was. The graveyard was dark again and the crows were silent. It was over and calm prevailed. Matt’s frail body buckled and he fell to the ground, dropping the gun.
Beth and David ran towards him. David secured the gun, making sure he neutralized the danger. Beth ran towards Matt. She cradled his head. He opened his eyes looking into Beth’s sorrowful gaze. He coughed violently, choking on thick blood. The blood gurgled in his mouth, spilling from the sides, as his eyes closed. His head slumped to the side and his body grew heavy.
“Bless your soul Matt. It matters not how a man dies, but how he lives. The act of dying is not of importance, it lasts so short a time.” Beth let Matt’s head rest gently upon the ground as she removed her hands. She became aware that David, the Vicar, and other men surrounded her. She rose to her feet, “I think he’s gone.”
“Don’t worry son. The Vicar told me what you did and it sounds like self defense.” One of the men was a village policeman. He was off duty and not wearing his uniform. “I saw him die but I also saw him waving that gun around. It’ll be in my report.”
David placed his hand around Beth’s waist, “Are you okay?”
She turned and shivered, “Can we go inside I’m cold.”
“Sure. Some more hot tea will warm you up. I need to check on a few things first.” David approached Matt’s body and looked at his hand. A dark powder stain had replaced the rings. They seemed to have disintegrated. David walked over to the Angel and Beth followed. A small amount of dark powder remained cupped within her outstretched hands. The wind swirled the fine powder, blowing it across the graveyard.
David looked at Beth; she took his hand and squeezed it. She smiled, “Let’s go inside, it looks like it’s over.”
They headed inside, leaving the police to deal with the body. David turned to Beth, “Did we fail Beth? I mean; people have tried to prevent this for thousands of years. What have we done? Do we really know?”
“Don’t worry, I received a sign. It said, let him go. I don’t know why, but letting him go was the right thing to do. I’m sure of that. We played our part and I’m sure this was how it was meant to be.” Beth held David’s hand and wouldn’t let go.
They moved back into the warmth of the Church but David had his doubts. All he could hear was Matt’s words haunting his thoughts. “I just needed to find a couple of fools like you. Fools in love are complete idiots.”
* * * * *
Chapter 25: The Skin of the Gods
Duat, The Underworld.
Paul Smith emerged from the strong light and tried to adjust to his new surroundings. He felt vibrant and alive, with energy coursing through every cell. His eyes seemed to deceive him as he stared at his own arm and hand. He recognized his appendage but it was Matt’s body. He was still wearing the two Rings and carrying the Golden box, containing the Amulet. Paul had entered heaven. He had descended into the depths of the Earth, into the timeless antechamber of Duat.
Paul Smith found himself on a thin strip of sandy ground facing a dock. He was shocked and his eyes widened as he struggled to survey the scene before him. Glistening above was a pristine cloudless blue sky. This magical place was bathed in brilliant strong light but Paul could not locate the sun. Behind him, were a blinding white glow and an oddly placed white marble column. It was decorated with strange carved inscriptions.
Paul’s attention was drawn beyond the dock. A slight movement caused him to focus across the water. He could see a strange leaf-like gate, guarded by a giant green slithering snake. Paul had no intention of confronting the giant scaled reptile. He could see the coiled snake but he could not see its head. In ancient times a snake-goddess Renenutet bore a son called Nehebkau. He was a two-headed snake, designed for combat and guarding the entrance to Duat.
Paul Smith glanced to his side and saw a sight that shook him to his core. A boat, made from polished wood, waited patiently to transport visitors across the water channel. He could see figures moving around on the boat. The boat was adorned with flags bearing the ram and jackal’s head motifs. Paul thought he’d only taken a moment to study the curious sight. Unfortunately it was long enough for the large distant snake to slither into the water and cross the channel. Nehebkau was curious too and was now leaving the water, heading towards a strange scent.
The crew gathered on the side of the boat to understand why the great snake had abandoned his post. Nehebkau patrolled the shoreline, his two heads engaged in a sweeping pattern. Both forked tongues flicking the air with his nostrils frantically trying to locate the strange scent. Paul was rooted in fear. He came within inches of the snake but soon realized, if he remained still, he would not be discovered. The crew was gathered on the side of the boat but every pair of eyes was tracking the large snake. It suddenly dawned on Paul. No one was looking at him. He was invisible to them and to the snake. Nehebkau became frantic; he knew something was not right, yet his senses and predatory instincts could not find anything wrong. Disillusioned, he slid back into the water and slithered back onto dry land. He resumed his duties, guarding the large leaf shaped gate.
Paul knew this was a dangerous place. He knew he did not belong here. His heart was pumping wildly. He had just escaped certain death at the hands of a snake design to kill. This would not have been a mortal death but a spiritual one, a permanent one. It was the largest snake he had ever seen, with two vicious heads and a thick body three times his girth. It was a while before Paul felt comfortable moving. The snake had re-coiled, basking in his normal spot on top of a rocky outcrop. The snake had height to survey the dock and anyone approaching. The crew had resumed their positions. It looked like everything had returned to normal. Paul had time to think about his next move while he let the disturbance subside.
He knew now that he had to simply concentrate on a time and a place. With this thought lodged within his mind, he would need to walk back into the blinding light. He would re-enter a world that he imagined. If he kept the image strong, he could imagine his original form, only fitter and more desirable. Claire would have no defense against his charm, charisma and power. He smiled, allowing himself a small amount of self-indulgence. He had managed to pull off an elaborate plan of deceit. He was taught Gieging by Master Xu, under the pretense of helping the Universe. He colluded with the Elders from the Order of the Serpent, a power hungry group. He would promise the delivery of ancient artifacts. He found and secured an ancient crystal, programmed by Cryanna herself.
The final deceit was to hijack the body of a young man, eager to please and gain acceptance. There was no remorse, only pleasure in his newfound power and satisfaction in completing such a complex plan. It was time Paul Smith realized his destiny and he knew that Claire was waiting. She was finally his for the taking. He walked gingerly towards the light before stopping abruptly. He slid his eyes carefully to the right and from the corner of his eye saw a movement. At first he thought the snake had returned but this was different. A muscular grey haired beast emerged. The beast straightened his legs from a low crouching position to reveal his full form. It was a giant wolf. He snarled, licking his nose to intensify his sense of smell. His huge snout rounded in Paul’s direction. He decided to stay still and let the beast pass, like the snake before him.
Wepwawet, the wolf God, had also been drawn to the shoreline by an unusual smell. It was a familiar smell. Confused, he dragged his enormous paws through the hot sand. He thrashed his snout wildly through the dry air, searching for clues. Paul remained stationary as his eyes widened with fear. The unusual snake was scary but the sight of this enormous muscular beast was petrifying.
Wepwawet blocked Paul’s route to the light. He wouldn’t make it if he ran, so his best option was to remain still. He needed to enter the light with the right image in his head. He did not want to be thinking about a giant vicious looking wolf. As Wepwawet drew closer, Paul could see the grey coarse fur covering his muscular body. A large black nose with flared nostrils hungrily searched for the familiar scent. He walked slowly, as if stalking his prey. He would inhale and crinkle his snout, to examine the air swirling around in his nostrils. His eyes darted from side to side, straining to see any movement. A large drooling tongue licked razor sharp teeth. Saliva dropped upon the dry barren sand. Wepwawet moved his front paw closer to Paul.
He could see razor sharp claws protruding from the pads on his paw. He was close now and temporarily stopped his search. His nostrils flared wide as he inhaled noisily, trying to place the scent. He suddenly raised his snout from the ground and leveled his eyes in Paul’s direction. With one powerful swipe of a large paw, the wolf God ripped his claws into Paul’s neck. It caused him to fall hard to his side. Paul’s head was nearly severed, as blood oozed from the open wound. Paul lay dying. He lay on his back motionless hoping the beast would leave. The great wolf God Wepwawet walked calmly over to Paul, as if he could see him plainly. He straddled his fallen prey and snorted his displeasure, his tongue licking his open lips. Paul could barely remain conscious. He could feel the hot breath of the beast close to his face.
Wepwawet was originally a hunting God and he was not about to let his prey escape, no matter what cunning devices were at play. He lunged forward and with open jaws gouged Paul’s heart from his body. Carrying the heart in his mouth, he delivered it to Anubis, for the weighing of the heart ceremony. Wepwawet was not going to let this treacherous soul escape judgment.
Wepwawet has taken many roles through the passage of time. His current one was the “Opener of the ways.” The wolf like God was associated with the one who accompanies the spirits of the dead through Duat. He transported the spirit of Paul Smith deep into the judgment hall, where Anubis himself was waiting to weigh his heart. In life, your decisions and actions will fall into two categories; deeds that help people, or those that don’t. In it’s crudest form thoughts, deeds or actions that support good or those that support evil. Your heart records these deeds and registers them with weight or lightness.
The great snake Nehebkau pulled the discarded carcass into the water, where it eventually rotted away. Wepwawet had collected the Amulet, Golden box and the exquisite Rings. Unsure of there origin, he would return them to Anubis for inspection.
As described in the Book of the Dead, Anubis the jackal headed God, weighs the hearts and souls with a sacred scale. A balanced heart is the same weight as a feather from Ma’at. Any heart, out of balance with the feather, would not be allowed to travel toward the paradise of Aaru. Instead, the Goddess Ammit would devour these damaged, corrupt souls. Ammit was a symbolized demon Goddess. She had the head of a crocodile, the torso of a leopard and the rear end of a hippopotamus. Ammit would sit beneath the scales of justice before the throne of Osiris. She would wait patiently for the steady flow of unworthy souls. If a soul were to be judged unworthy, then Anubis would feed the soul to Ammit for total annihilation.
Wepwawet dropped the heart at Anubis’s feet, proud that his hunting instincts had not let this one get away. Ete assisted with the weighing of the heart and judgment was passed swiftly. The Goddess Ammit was summoned forward and she fed on another unworthy soul. She made short work of Paul Smith, whose crimes resulted in the complete annihilation of his soul.
Wepwawet used his snout to push a collection of artifacts towards Ete. Ete collected them dutifully and presented them to Anubis for inspection.
They both smiled. They had exchanged these items thousands of years ago in the days of King Narmer when Ete was a High Priest. Anubis examined the Golden box, intricately sculptured from his own flesh. He placed it upon his forearm. It melted into his body, returning to its original form. Anubis gazed at the Amulet made in his self-image of sweet smelling wood. He placed it over his head and wore it with pride. He then turned his attention to the Rings. He cupped the Rings within his hands and they melted back into his body. The ancient Egyptians always referred to gold as the skin of the gods.
Two pieces of polished claw remained in his palm. Anubis discarded them by tossing them to the floor. Wepwawet watched intensely. Keen to see what Anubis would do with the worthless stones he watched their trajectory and noted where they landed. Without asking permission, he calmly moved his hulking frame towards the two small objects.
Wepwawet sniffed them with interest and finally flicked his tongue to gather the polished stones. Ete knew only to well where these fragments had originated. Wepwawet crunched down on the hard stones, devouring them. The Golden box and the Amulet would have provided Paul Smith safe passage into the ante-chamber of Duat. From there, he could have left unnoticed, into another time and place. It was the Rings that eventually gave Paul Smith away. Wepwawet had led many hunting trips as the God of War and a Hunting God. His keen wolf nose was trained to discern smells. But there was one smell that he would always recognize: His own.
Wepwawet had recognized the smell of his own claw. The fragments were set within the two Rings, cleverly crafted many years ago. He knew something was wrong when he could smell his scent across the river. It was the Rings that led to Paul’s downfall and discovery. An audacious plan meticulously executed, to win the heart of a woman. Claire had never shown Paul any affection. Lies, murder and deceit had led to the annihilation of his soul. For others, there would be mercy for the odd indiscretion or lack of judgment. When you involve the Gods and their artifacts it can only end one way.
* * * * *
Haworth, West Yorkshire, England, Present day.
“Will these people still come after us,” asked Beth, still shaking from the evening’s events?
David pulled her close, “They may, but now we’re twice as prepared.”
She rested her head on his chest and let the words sink into her thoughts. “I’m still worried. They’ll be mad. They were double crossed and now they’ll think we have their artifacts.”
David held out his hand. The crystal pendant rested upon his palm. “This is important and it’s the only thing that survived. Don’t worry Beth, whatever we have to face, we’ll face it together. Let’s go for a stiff drink and you can tell me the story behind that little fox tattoo.”
The End …..
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